


Stepping Out

by ladyspock7



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Government Conspiracy, Humor, Teen Angst, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 186,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyspock7/pseuds/ladyspock7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen year old Megamind has had it with prison life and decides to strike out on his own. With Minion, of course. All he has to do is survive a harsh Michigan winter, dodge the cops, avoid the super-powered Wayne Scott, and escape the clutches of a new and powerful enemy. Besides that, no problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Incident

_"Two wrongs don't make a right, but they make a good excuse." -Thomas Stephen Szasz_

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Megamind frowned at the hydraulic press. As the familiar murmur of men and machines swirled around him, the fifteen year old inmate was glad that it wasn't possible to actually die of boredom. Sid and Lenny passed by. Sid was in full complaint mode.

“Charlie never puts the mop heads in the wash,” Sid said.

“Give him a break. He's got asthma,” said Lenny.

“He just says that to get out of work,” Sid griped. “I'm always cleaning up after him!”

Megamind sighed. He'd heard the same conversations a million times and made about a billion license plates.

His mind wandered to the National Geographic article about jet packs, which was far more interesting. The article was short on technical details but he'd read it so often he had it memorized. _'...propulsion system strong enough to lift a grown man the size of Michael Jackson into the air as a cool exit from a concert stage...the stuff of science fiction made real...'_ Idly he twirled a license plate in his hands.

He jumped when someone struck the press with a wrench. The resounding clang was like a slap to the ears. He glared at Justin Henkler, fellow prisoner and bane of his existence. Justin was like an older brother. In some ways exactly like an older brother. Justin grinned, baring his crooked teeth. His mousy brown hair frizzed all over his head like a supernova. There were a couple of residual pimples hanging on for dear life on his chin.

“Gotta wake you up somehow,” he said innocently. “You're daydreaming all day. Want me to knock your fat head next time? I can't miss.” He sniggered.

“How about you go away and come back when you learn a new joke? Ten or twelve years, say?” Megamind said, sneering. Justin gave him a hard look. Megamind glared back and clenched his fists, in case Justin tried to give him a noogie. Whatever that was. Apparently it involved yelling the word in an annoying voice and putting the victim in a headlock. Last month Megamind had to punch and elbow Justin to get him to back off. He did not have any desire to find out what a noogie was. It sounded very unpleasant.

“I hear you're taking the GED next week,” Megamind said. He made his voice slow and precise, for the hard of thinking. “Let me give you some hints. One plus one is two, two plus two is four, four plus---”

Sarcasm was not in Justin's vocabulary, but he knew it when he heard it. He leaned forward a little to deliver a rebuttal, but stopped as he sensed the heavy tread of the guard. George Bronski eclipsed the lights as he paused to give them his full attention. Justin scurried back to his station and Megamind immediately turned back to his press. Bronski was a new guard, an ex-boxer, and, like many new recruits, was altogether too eager to enforce rules.

After a tense moment, Bronski appeared to be satisfied that his presence had gotten results. He lumbered on to intimidate the rest of the room.

Megamind paused to look around for Minion. Minion, from his own station next to Harry the embezzler, had noticed his exchange with Justin and was anxiously peering at him. Harry, too, was looking at him with a worried expression in his watery eyes. Minion's linebacker-sized robotic suit was the largest model yet and Megamind was proud of his work. For being constructed from bits and pieces salvaged from the mechanic's bay and the prison dump, it was quite effective. It protected Minion, gave him freedom of movement, and incidentally protected Megamind too. More than a few fights had been averted by the looming, scowling presence of Minion. There were times when one of Megamind's innocent remarks rubbed some inmate the wrong way. But it was amazing how quickly the offended party backed off when Minion towered over them.

Megamind gave them a little nod and a grin. No problem here. He could handle Justin. Minion smiled and nodded back. Megamind turned back to the press. He maintained enough presence of mind not to get his fingers caught in the press but his mind was elsewhere.

_'...the amount of thrust required to lift any sort of substantial weight is comparable'...well, part of the problem is the power source. They could get better results if they would just---_

He was shoved hard from behind. He fell against the press, banging his shoulder.

“Ow!” he shouted. Furious, he whirled around and glared at the smirking Justin.

Two aisles down, Bronski lifted his head and changed course. He began to scull his way back towards the commotion.

Justin sneered at Megamind. “Poor baby. You gonna sic your pet fish on me?” Snorting, he began to turn away.

Megamind snatched up a license plate and whipped it at him. Justin dodged. The plate whirred through the air like a homicidal pheasant and struck the approaching guard smartly across the forehead. Bronski's head snapped back out of sheer surprise. He staggered back a step, then straightened up, rocking a little.

Megamind froze. Justin's eyes bulged. Minion gasped and the entire room held its breath.

 _Well, isn't this an interesting development,_ Megamind thought, swallowing through a throat gone dry. Never hit a guard before. Needled, yes. Heckled, sure. But struck? That was taking it a bit far. It had been an accident, but ol' George didn't look very amenable to an apology.

Generally he considered the guards to be one of those inevitable hardships, sort of like the weather. You could complain about the rain all you liked, but you weren't supposed to attack it.

Justin carefully sidled away, leaving a clear path. Bronski slowly raised a disbelieving hand to the cut on his forehead. He looked at the red smear on his fingertips.

Megamind watched in horrified fascination as the shock in the man's face turned to fury. He was dimly aware that Minion was working his way over but Megamind didn't dare take his eyes off Bronski. A small, crazed grin hitched up half of Megamind's mouth.

When Bronski lunged at him, he bolted and dove under a table. Bronski grabbed his ankle, Minion tackled Bronski, and the room erupted. Justin and a couple of other troublemakers began flinging tools around. The older prisoners shouted at them and backed up out of the chaos.

“You stupid punks!”

“You're gonna get us all in trouble!”

“I'm not cleanin' that up!”

The guard by the door shouted out into the hallway. “Backup! Help! We need backup now!”

The force of Minion's tackle caused Bronski to lose his grip and Megamind hopped up on the other side of the table. “Good job, Minion,” he shouted, making the most of it. Guards were pushing their way in to re-establish control. It would have, perhaps, been more prudent to surrender, but Megamind's blood was up, and something in him was not about to go quietly. He considered fleeing out into the hallway, but there was a crush of people by the door, struggling and shouting.

Two guards were advancing. He fled, flinging boxes and tools in his wake to slow up the pursuit.

“Run, Meg, run!” Justin crowed.

 _I'll get you,_ Megamind seethed, _You sorry son of a---_

They were tasering Minion. George Bronski jerked himself free as the heavy metallic body slumped over. The bowl of the dome opened. It might've been the electrical charge interfering with the suit's features that caused it to malfunction. Or Minion himself opened it, in his state of shock and disorientation. The result was the same. Minion spilled out onto the floor. The guards backed away from the flood of water. Then one of them kicked Minion into a table leg.

“No!” Megamind shouted. Heedless of the orders to halt, he hurtled over and around obstacles. The small body came into view as he rounded the last corner and then Bronski stepped into his path and punched him between the eyes.

He landed painfully against one of the presses. When his vision cleared, he caught a merciful glimpse of Harry, who darted in among the milling feet and snatched Minion off the floor. Then Bronski blocked his line of sight and knocked him out.

\-----------------------------------------------

Minion floated, sore and angry, in the aquarium in the assistant's office. There weren't any fish in it. Just him. He'd been banished to the tank before, on other occasions when they'd been punishing his master. He wondered how long he'd be stuck in here this time. Nobody would tell him. A lot of people wouldn't talk to him at all when he wasn't encased in his robotic suit. They ignored him like he was just some fish. The robot suit, which gave him a roughly humanoid form, suggested more strongly to others that he was, in fact, a sentient being capable of rational thought. That and the fact that he could crush skulls with his metallic hands also helped gain a little respect. Not that he'd ever actually do any crushing, actually. But he certainly seemed capable of it; it preyed on people's minds. It encouraged them to talk to him with at least a little civility.

His sides ached where the point of the guard's boot had struck him, and from his collision with the table leg. He was grateful for Harry's brave action. Interfering in guard business of subduing unruly prisoners, was dangerous, even if it was an act of mercy. Harry was lucky he hadn't been subdued himself.

Harry saved Minion from getting stomped, and brought him over to a sink full of water. A sympathetic guard later allowed Harry to take Minion to the aquarium. The robotic suit was, he thought, shoved away into a closet somewhere.

Andrew Johnson, the warden's assistant, typed busily away on a computer. The gentle bubbling of the aquarium was the only other sound in the room, other than the sound of irate voices which came from behind the warden's closed door. They were too muffled for Minion to make out what they were saying.

Andrew tapped fussily at a small stack of files, looked at the door, and sighed. Finally he pressed his lips together in a thin line and went to open the door.

The voices grew louder.

“--- let a thing like that slide, warden! He attacked a guard!”

“It wasn't intentional! Bronski wasn't even the target.”

"Any prisoner who strikes a guard gets solitary!” the first voice insisted. “If we don't enforce the rules---”

“There are rules governing humane treatment. Like not beating prisoners unconscious---what is it Andrew!”

“I'm sorry, sir, these really need your approval before I can transfer them.”

"All right, let me see them.”

Minion leaned against the wall of the aquarium to hear better. There was the ruffle of pages turning, the creak of chairs as bodies shifted in their seats. Someone sighed heavily. There was the sound of a pen scribbling across paper.

“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” Andrew said. He came out of the warden's office and, to Minion's disappointment, closed the door again. The voices that drifted out were much quieter.

Several minutes later, the chief security officer came out of the warden's office.

“I'll see to it, John,” he said. As he passed Andrew's desk, he glared at Minion, then strode over to the tank. Minion fluttered nervously into a corner.

“You want to see your little prince again, you better behave yourself,” he said in a low voice.

Minion blinked at him. _What's he think I'm gonna do, stuck in here?_ Minion thought. _Splash water on the carpet?_

With a final glower, the man left.

John Parker came out of his office. “Would you mind making some coffee for us?”

“Sure thing, warden.”

While Andrew went to the cupboard, Parker pulled a chair over to the aquarium and sat down. He rested an elbow on one of the arms and rested his chin on his knuckles. He stared at Minion so long that the ichthyoid began to get uncomfortable.

“You're supposed to keep him out of trouble, Minion,” he said quietly. “That's the deal. I've just about had to beg one of my best men not to turn in his resignation. I am not happy. It seems the guards feel that Blue gets special treatment, and they are resentful.”

“You should use his proper name,” Minion muttered.

The warden's face darkened and he let his arm fall. “Why? You don't. It's all 'Sir this' and 'Sir that.' Why don't you ever say his 'proper' name?”

Minion sniffed. “Wouldn't be proper,” he said primly.

Parker muttered something unintelligible and slumped back into the chair. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He's going into solitary for a week,--- and even that's going easy on him, it should be two--- after he's released from the infirmary.”

“I want to see him,” Minion said.

Parker shook his head. “In case you haven't noticed, Minion, this is your solitary confinement.” He narrowed his eyes. “That's the point. No social contact.”

“So what does that bully get, a raise?”

“George Bronski will be suspended for a week. The man had to have three stitches, if that interests you at all. When he comes back, he will be transferred to the night shift. Bailey, the one who kicked you, is getting a week's suspension too.”

Minion swam about until he faced the wall. He was actually a little surprised that the kick-happy guard was getting disciplined as well. It was hard to get a good sulk going when the warden was being so darn fair-minded and everything, but he managed.

The warden pressed his lips together. He had the impression he was being given the silent treatment. He'd seen the boy as he was taken to the infirmary. He did not like the look of those bruises. He wanted to fire Bronski outright, but there were rules and procedures to be followed. George Bronski had not been suspended before, and there would have to be an investigation. He sighed.

“I'll keep you informed on his condition.” The warden stood up with a scrape of the chair.

The phone rang and Andrew answered it. Parker stared at the wall. Finally he said “Maybe, in a couple more years, maybe we can look at some kind of work release program.” He stopped and chewed thoughtfully on his lip.

 _Excuse me if I don't hold my breath, warden,_ Minion thought. _I'm not going to watch my master grow old in this place._

Out in the hall, someone shouted in the distance. They seemed to be getting closer, judging by the rising intensity. Both warden and assistant looked around at the door. If Minion had external ears, he would have perked them up.

“Minion!” the voice called. “Miiiiiiiin-yuuuuuuuuuun!”

A grin spread over Minion's face. He swam excitedly around the tank, nearly slopping water over the sides. “It's him. It's him!” he squeaked.


	2. Infirmary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megamind's transition from ward to prisoner was a gradual one. And now even his guardian the warden has had enough of his antics.

“ _ **When life hands you lemons, squirt someone in the eye.” -Cathy Guisewite**_

  - - - - - -

Megamind slowly regained consciousness in the infirmary, to some kind of horrible booming noise. He focused and realized the noise was one of the guards loudly describing the scene in the license plate assembly room. The man's voice pounded his head with every syllable.

“---practically runs right into Bronski, so he decks 'im, POW.” Megamind flinched. It felt like his face was in a vise.

“He's awake, Doc,” the guard shouted cheerfully. Megamind wished the man would shut up.

The doctor came to his bedside and gently pried open one of Megamind's eyes, shining a penlight into it. The other eye was swollen shut.

“How many fingers do you see, son?” he asked quietly, holding up two fingers. Megamind was too demoralized to even make a joke. “Two,” he mumbled.

“Should be seeing quadruple the way Bronski clobbered you,” boomed the overly cheerful guard.

“Are you president of the Bronski brown-noser club, seriously, that's the sixth time you've said his name since we got here,” Megamind shot back.

There was a short, heavy silence.

 _Did I say that out loud?_ Megamind wondered. The guard, Iverson, narrowed his eyes. _I guess I did,_ he thought miserably.

“Where's Minion? Why isn't he here?” Anxiety made his voice tight and strained. Iverson snorted. Megamind willed himself not to look at him. He remembered, vividly, the sight of Minion tasered, the robotic suit crashing, and Minion spilling helplessly out of his containment unit onto the floor. And that guard, Bailey, kicking the little ichthyoid into the table leg.

“He's in the aquarium, son,” the doctor said, glancing at him. “I'm sure he's fine.”

“How do you know?” Megamind asked. “Did you see him? He probably needs a doctor.”

Dr. Curtis sighed. “No, I didn't see him.”

“Then how do you know?” Megamind couldn't keep the shrillness out of his voice. “Can't you call the warden and ask?”

Iverson snapped, “Geez, don't blow a gasket. He was swimming around in that bucket all right when I saw him.” No one was rushing to the phone. This seemed to be as much reassurance as he was going to get.

The doctor gave Megamind an ice pack, and he carefully placed it over his face with his left hand. The doctor asked if he felt up to trying to walk. Megamind nodded. He managed to take a few shaky steps with the help of an orderly. He glanced up and saw Iverson smirking at him. Megamind straightened up and shoved away the orderly's arm.

“I can walk,” he said stiffly. “I'm ready to go back now.”

Dr. Curtis frowned a little but only said, “Well, you don't have a concussion. Suit yourself. I'm going to give you something for the pain. Sit down.” Megamind flopped down on the bed again. “Can I have a mirror?” he asked. Dr. Curtis handed one over. Megamind gazed blearily at his features. A great reddish-purple bruise spread across the lower half of his high forehead. His left eye was completely swollen shut and another bruise and a cut marred his left cheekbone. Compulsively he examined his jawline but it was as smooth as ever. Rats. Still no beard.

“Roll up your sleeve, son.” Megamind looked up to see Dr. Curtis busying himself with a little bottle and a syringe. He gulped at the sight of the needle. Iverson snickered at this reaction and nudged Smith, the other guard. The doctor looked up sharply. “You men may wait out there,” he said testily. Iverson scowled, but they turned to go out to the waiting room. Megamind stuck his tongue out at their departing backs. Iverson turned at the last second and caught him in the act. Megamind could almost hear the man mentally filing this latest insult away for perusal. He sighed. It was going to be a long walk back to the cell block.

“Try to relax your arm, son, it'll hurt less,” said Dr. Curtis. Megamind squinched his eyes shut until it was over.

Dr. Curtis walked Megamind to the waiting room. Megamind's stomach clenched in dread at the thought of the hostile guards waiting to walk him back to his cell. He almost asked if he could stay in the infirmary overnight but he needed to see Minion for himself.

The doctor was writing on a form. “I'll send a memo to your work supervisor excusing you from any duties for the next five days, Blue. You'll need to take a long rest...is that really necessary?” he asked Iverson who was cuffing Megamind's hands behind his back.

“Absolutely, doc,” Iverson drawled. “Don't bother with that memo. This one's headed for solitary.”

Dr. Curtis blinked. Megamind felt as if the air had solidified in his lungs. The hole. He'd never been sent there before. Dismay must have shown on his face, because Iverson smirked and said “Don't cry, kid, it's only for a week.”

“I see,” said the doctor. He patted Megamind on the shoulder. “Take care, son.”

\- - - - -

They were hustling him along at a pretty good clip. Megamind dazedly tried not to trip. The painkiller sloshed gently through his veins. Iverson kept jabbing him in the back at unexpected moments and he stumbled sometimes. Once after a rough jostle, Megamind lost his grip on the ice pack and it fell through his fingers.

“Hey---”he said, half-turning, but Iverson spun him around and forced him to keep walking. His partner began to bend over to pick it up, but Iverson snapped, “Come on! I should have clocked out of here half an hour ago.” The ice pack stayed where it had landed. The sheer unfairness of it all made Megamind's eyes sting and the breath catch in his throat. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping his chin up. Any sign of weakness would bring nothing but ridicule.

The prison was doing a bang-up job hiring heartless sadistic goons these last few years.

The guards and prisoners that once looked after him, that had raised him, were drifting away. Some guards left for other employment, or retired, except for Al Kopecki who apparently had opted for an early death. He had a stroke right there in the guards' break room and died on the way to the hospital, the prison infirmary not being up to snuff. Some of his prison uncles were transferred, or were released on parole (though a number of these parolees showed up again for another round of hard time). Or died like old Al, though generally in rather more violent ways.

There were plenty of newcomers who seemed to see it as their duty to push him around. He was getting into more fights as he tried to keep from sliding right to the bottom of the heap. Minion was a great help, there.

It wasn't always possible for Minion to help, though. Like last month, when the ball and socket joint in the robot suit's left hip got a serious crack in it. Megamind stored it away in the mechanic's bay until he could get it replaced and carried Minion around in his containment bowl like he always used to do. That same day Justin Henkler tried to “noogie” him. He fought Justin off, but there must have been a bet going, because Freddy, another meat-head, tried to noogie him at the lunch hour. It turned into a shoving match, with Minion rolling around on the floor trying to trip Freddy up. It quickly became a ruckus, or possibly a fracas, and finally Megamind had no choice but to dump a food tray over Freddy's head.

The food fight engulfed half the cafeteria.

The guards didn't find out for sure who was responsible, or Megamind might have found out a lot sooner what solitary confinement was like, but they made an educated guess, and spread the blame around. After everybody was hosed off, the whole cell block was pressed into service on the clean-up crew, guilty and innocent alike.

Once sort of a mascot and all-round ward, Megamind was now looked on more and more as a nuisance, shunted off onto whatever work crew would have him. He wasn't so welcome anymore, like a puppy that had the audacity to grow up.

The hole. Whose idea was that? There was nothing to do in there. Every detail in the hallway, every light fixture and doorway stood out in sharp relief, as if his mind were frantically sucking in as many images as possible before it was banished to the darkness. A whole week. He'd go crazy. There was a pain somewhere above his stomach that produced curious sensations, as if his body couldn't decide if it should collapse or float away. Becoming violently ill seemed another possible option.

The hallway shifted. He shifted too. He rebounded gently off Smith and veered sideways, like a marble obeying the laws of Brownian motion, and almost tripped over the other guard's feet. Iverson cursed and yanked him back onto a more or less straight trajectory.

He needed to see Minion. He had to know if he was all right. He sure wasn't going to ask permission, though. These bozos would undoubtedly take great delight in denying his request. No doubt it would inspire Iverson to new heights of obnoxiousness.

They were quite near the administrative offices, just two hallways down. He swallowed the lump in his throat, took a deep breath and bellowed “Minion! Minion can you hear me!”

“Shut up,” Iverson snapped, and tried to hurry him along. Megamind lunged against their restraining hands and nearly broke loose. He succeeded in dragging himself a bit closer to the adjoining hallway.

“Minion!” he shouted. “Miiiin-yuuuuuuuun!” he shouted again, and strained, listening.

He shouted again and again.

“Shut up!” Iverson said again, but his voice had an anxious pitch to it. Doors were opening and curious personnel were poking their heads out. Normally a quick punch to the kidneys was Iverson's usual response to this sort of resistance, but he didn't quite dare, not here. There were an inconvenient number of witnesses. And the alien kid was barely half his size. Definitely wouldn't look good.

Minion's voice drifted out into the air. “Sir, I'm here, Sir! I'm here!”

“You all right? You okay?” Megamind shouted. His voice echoed.

“I'm okay! Are you okay Sir?”

“Never better, Minion,” Megamind shouted as they leaned on him and pushed him past. “Don't you worry Minion! I'll get you out of there. I'll get you ooooouuuuuuut!”

“Come on, pick him up,” Smith said anxiously. They grabbed his elbows and lifted. It hardly needed both of them. Either of them could almost have picked him up and stuck him under an arm. His feet kicked at the air for a second.

Success! Now he knew for sure that Minion was alive. But he wasn't going to meekly walk off into that solitary confinement cell without at least a little token resistance. At the stairs he braced his feet against the railing.

Iverson was trying to kick his foot loose without actually looking like he was kicking, when the warden spoke.

“What's going on here, gentlemen?”

Like scuffling children caught in the act they all turned around at once. Megamind landed on the floor again.

“Bringing the prisoner to solitary, sir,” Iverson said, jerking his shoulders back with military precision. Megamind rolled his good eye.

“Would it be possible to do it a little more quietly?” Parker asked.

“They tried to push me down the stairs,” Megamind piped up.

Parker looked sharply at the dumbstruck guards. Iverson's mouth opened and shut like a landed fish.

“We did not!” he finally blustered, voice rising indignantly. “We weren't---I wouldn't---”

“They threatened to beat me up! They took away my ice pack,” Megamind said, almost delirious with glee. There was a murmur of disapproval from the gathered personnel. One of the social workers pushed her glasses firmly up her nose and scowled at the guards.

Parker tried very hard not to sigh. Nobody could create a scene like Megamind. There was hardly any situation he couldn't make worse.

“Everyone get back to work,” the warden ordered. “Now! I will handle this. Go on.” Gradually the audience dispersed. Parker walked close to the boy, forcing him to look up. He frowned at the cuffs; those hardly seemed necessary but he wasn't going to reprimand the guards in front of the boy. Not now. His bruises looked even worse under the harsh lighting of the hallway. Megamind stuck out his chin and tilted his head for maximum insolence.

Maybe the chief of security was right. He was too easy on the boy, because he'd been forced to grow up in this place. Normally such a thought would have swamped Parker with guilt. This time he squelched it.

“You have to stop this,” the warden said.

“Stop what?” Megamind asked, shrugging. “Breathing? You'll have to be more specific.”

“The fighting ends now. Every scuffle will result in a longer stretch in solitary each time. Minion may be in that tank for good. Got it?”

Megamind's smirk faded.

“It wasn't my fault. Henkler start---”

“I don't care who started it. The fighting ends,” the warden repeated. “You want Minion to spend the rest of his life in the aquarium?”

There was no sound except for Megamind's breathing. But he didn't speak. After a moment the warden nodded to the guards.

“Take him away.”

They saluted and escorted Megamind down the stairs.

\- - - -

Parker did not feel any sense of victory whatsoever. After reading the same document for the third time he gave up. It was almost the end of the day anyway. He was careful not to look at the aquarium on the way out.

He would not tell his wife about today. The doctor had warned that Joyce mustn't hear anything that might upset her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story and my own writing skills have evolved, I have come to see the warden more as a concerned father rather than a reluctant guardian. Parker becomes a little more compassionate towards young Megamind in later chapters...but I think his reaction to Megamind's behavior is not so different from that of a frustrated parent trying to control a rebellious teen. So I think the scene still works. It's just that Parker has guards and cells to enforce his will, unlike most parents!


	3. Solitary Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentenced to solitary confinement for the first time, Megamind comes to a decision.

Chapter 3

 

Too soon, Megamind and his escort were at the final flight of stairs. The walls were a dull gray, to ramp up as much despair as possible in the inmates. The florescent lights, rather than lighting the way, mainly made the shadows gloomier.

They approached the solitary cell block. The door guard gave Megamind a quizzical look.

“So what's he doing here?”

“Parker's fed up,” Iverson said smugly. “Guess he ain't the warden's pet anymore.”

“You catch the game on Sunday?” Smith asked the door guard.

“Naw,” the man said. “I worked a double shift.”

“Didn't miss much. The Lions played like crap.”

Megamind was brought to the solitary confinement cell. The door was unlocked, the cuffs were removed, and Megamind was shoved in with, he thought, rather unnecessary force, but nobody asked his opinion.

“They oughta fire that quarterback.”

“It's the offense. Quarterback can't do anything if they don't protect him.”

The door slammed shut. The voices and footsteps of the guards faded. Megamind almost felt hurt.

_That's it? Not even a “So long, maggot?”_ Shoved in the cell almost as an afterthought. It was depressing. His eyes adjusted to the dim light creeping in under the door. There was little enough to see. Four walls, a floor mat with no blanket or pillow, and a toilet in the corner that gently perfumed the air. He stood stiffly in the middle of the room, rubbing his sore wrists, and then he went over to the mat and sat down. He wrapped his arms around his knees and hid his face in his arms. Gradually he stopped shaking and his breathing steadied. He rubbed his uninjured eye with his wrist and wiped his nose on his sleeve. For a moment, he was glad that Minion couldn't see him like this. Then he wished he were back in their cell, with a notebook open on his lap, pen busy, the two of them grousing about the nitwits they had to deal with all day. His stomach hurt a little less, to make room for the headache.

His rapid metabolism was burning through the painkiller already. Or maybe a lot more time had passed than he realized. Wasn't it time for supper yet? He wasn't hungry but it would provide a distraction.

It took a village to raise a child. In Megamind's case, it was done by various able-bodied prisoners and guards, the warden, and a committee. The warden and his wife were, technically, his legal guardians. Megamind supposed someone had to be; perhaps the burden had landed on the Parkers by default. The committee occasionally came around to interview him and keep tabs on his 'progress,' which was code for “just checking to see if you've blown anything up lately.”

_You want Minion to spend the rest of his life in the aquarium?_

That was bad enough. But it didn't sound like Parker was only talking about Minion. Megamind groaned and hugged his knees harder.

They would never let them out. Occasionally, there were mutterings about further education, or finding him some sort of outside work program, but nothing ever came of it. Or if they ever did let him out, it would be on a leash. They'd probably keep Minion for insurance. _Behave yourself, or your little fishy friend gets it._

\- - - - - - - - -

He remembered that last disastrous day at school, when he was six, after he triumphantly set off the paint bomb and got sent home for good. Certain that he had finally unlocked the secret of his destiny, he announced to the other prisoners that, when he grew up, he would be the baddest of all.

This did not produce the smiles and affirmations he imagined. Instead, they scolded him, told him he screwed up, that school was an opportunity he'd thrown away.

Old Joe was especially perturbed, almost hysterical. Megamind still remembered Joe warning him about the Feds, and how they were always watching, how he had to keep a low profile and not act up all the time, or else they would come and take him away. It had scared him straight.

The Feds were a very effective team of bogeymen. He hardly dared even  _think_ of life on the outside. For years.

 - - - - - - - - - 

Megamind was suddenly furious at himself. The Feds, the Feds! Keep your head down kid, or the Feds are gonna come and get ya! In a surge of energy he launched himself to his feet and paced back and forth.

He was so gullible. It was just one of those lies grown-ups made up to keep children from misbehaving. Even if Joe had really believed it, it didn't make it any less a lie. None of his other prison uncles ever took him aside and told him that Joe was nuts. No suspicious men in dark glasses ever came around asking about him, or tried to get him transferred to some suspicious facility. Ever.

He should have thought it through. Or researched it. There were ways of finding things out. He'd been so gullible. Long after fear of 'the Feds' faded, he'd been left with a nagging fear of life on the outside, a vague feeling that people were out to get him.

He had it right the first time. If nothing else, it couldn't possibly be his destiny to waste his life away in prison, matching wits with lunkheads, waiting to see if the authorities would let him out.

Well, he didn't need to wait for them to let him out. He could leave. He could take Minion and go. 

He stopped in the middle of the floor. He could leave. The thought terrified him almost as much as the thought of never leaving at all, but it was invigorating. He began pacing again, almost maniacally, breathing hard.

_I can do it. I know I can. With Minion I can do anything._

However.

If there was one thing his brief time at school had shown him, it was that he and Minion stood out like a couple of aliens who were the last survivors of their planet stuck in a world of over-grown, barely civilized savages. Like a couple of very sore thumbs indeed.

If they broke out, no, _when_ they broke out, there would be someone after them for sure. Many someones. Heavily armed lawmen, to be exact.

He would have to outsmart them. He could probably do it with his brain tied behind his back. Then there was the little matter of Wayne Scott. Wayne was an alien too, but he looked human. At least he fit Earth's idea of what a normal human looked like, if normal included a boy who looked like a 25 year old weightlifter and was already taller than most everyone in the entire Midwest.

What set Wayne apart was his super powers. Super strength, super speed, the power of flight, and invulnerability. A year older than Megamind, he was already making a name for himself out in the city as a crimefighter and hunter of fugitives. Several men were in prison right now, thanks to him.

Wayne couldn't really be totally invulnerable, could he? Everyone had weaknesses. He knew something about Wayne's powers, from TV interviews and newspaper articles, and from personal experience from their brief shool days. Well, he would outsmart him, too.

He smiled. Now that he'd put his mind to it, all sorts of possibilities were presenting themselves. Finally tired again, he sat down on the mat.

_I shall liberate my old dehydrator gun._ The warden had confiscated it when he learned of its existence, shortly after he was kicked out of school. In truth, he'd been glad to hand it over. At the time he was ready to do anything asked of him if it meant he could keep under the Feds' radar. Having the dehydrator gun was asking for trouble, the warden said. At the time Megamind thought that the warden was making a vague reference to the men in black, but now he knew the warden probably was worried that some prisoner would take it and use it to escape. Megamind smiled. Some prisoner sure would use it for escape now.

He would employ a bit of strategy. When he got out of this hole, he'd be the epit- _tohm_ of meek. There was plenty of time to think, to plan. There wasn't anything else to do. And perhaps there would be time for a spot of rev- _ahnge_ , before they left.

 - - - - - - - - - 

Megamind was released from solitary the day after Christmas. He was a model prisoner. He continued to display the slightly evil smirk guaranteed to mock and annoy everyone within range (total meekness, he felt, would have excited comment), but he did what he was told and stopped needling people. They let Minion have his robot suit back. Walter Schmidt, the head of security, advised against it, but Minion was always so useful when things needed to be unloaded or stacked up; reluctantly he agreed, with the understanding that the threat of being banished to the tank for good might be enough to keep both Minion and his ward in line.

\- - - - - - - - - -

One afternoon Justin Henkler dropped a heavy box of laundry detergent on his foot and hopped around wailing. Miraculously, Megamind failed to utter any sort of comment whatsoever. He glanced up, then went back to folding sheets.

Sid nudged Lenny. “You see that? You see that?” he said.

Lenny sighed irritably. “See what? Nothing happened,” he said.

“That's what I mean! Blue didn't say nothin'. You think Bronski knocked some sense into him or somethin'?”

Lenny stared at the alien kid thoughtfully. Megamind was stacking the folded sheets. Now that Sid mentioned it, he was awful quiet lately.

“Dunno,” he said. “Maybe he's coming down with something.”

New Year's Eve came and went.

The only excitement occurred when several small personal items went missing from some of the cells. There were a lot of complaints from angry prisoners. That sort of petty theft could cause massive unrest, so the guards conducted a search. Everyone was surprised when the stolen items were discovered behind Justin Henkler's cot. Especially Justin Henkler.

Life became very exciting for Justin. So exciting, in fact, that the guards were forced to place him in solitary for a time, until the resentment against him tapered off.

They escorted Justin past Megamind and Minion's cell, giving them a good view of Justin's newly-blackened eye. His mouse-brown hair was even more frazzled than usual.

“Hi,” Minion said. Justin glanced up.

Megamind leaned against the bars, examining his nails and smiling a little. He shook his head slowly. Justin glared at him.

“Whatever were you thinking,” Megamind said. He stepped back, laughing, when Justin kicked at the bars, setting off a tremendous clang.

“Don't you know stealing is wrong?” Megamind said, chuckling.

“You little cockroach! I'm gonna squash you!” Justin screamed as the guards hauled him away.

“Have a nice vacation,” Megamind called.

\- - - - - -

No one noticed the old microwave in the salvage bay had been gutted. No one noticed that a car that had been brought in for spare parts in the mechanic shop had lost its computer chips, shock absorbers and most of its wiring. They figured the parts had been stripped before it was donated. And when one of the ancient computers in the prison library stopped working one day, the librarian didn't bother trying to get it repaired. He hated all this new-fangled technology anyway. The old index cards had worked just fine for him.

 


	4. The Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megamind makes his move.

“ _ **Whenever I have to choose between two evils, I always like to try the one I haven't tried before.” -Mae West**_

 

Chapter 4

 

Bailey was so insulted at being suspended just for kicking a damn fish that he quit. George Bronski didn't blame him, but wasn't about to do anything that would further jeopardize his own job. His employment record was rather spotty, and he was determined not to get fired for once.

He worked the night shift now. The chief security officer, Walter Schmidt, basically told him it was the night shift or nothing.“It's better if you have a little less direct contact with the prisoners,” he said, narrowing his eyes at him. Bronski knew what the man meant. It was typical. They didn't appreciate his efforts to keep order. That freak kid needed to be taught a lesson. The twerp acted like he owned the place and looked down his nose at everybody. They even let him have a servant, like he was royalty.

Even now the freak acted uppity. One morning he was clocked out and heading home when he spotted Megamind in the work crew headed for the laundry, and the kid actually smirked at him. He might've even winked! Bronski bristled and barely restrained himself from going to have a private word with that smart-aleck. But he knew he was on thin ice as it was. Another suspension might get him fired.

There was no trace of any bruise left on that blue face. He heard that the freak healed fast but hadn't believed it.

\- - - - - -

His co-worker Robinson was snoring in his chair at the desk. The door to the guard room creaked open an inch and he started up out of his snooze guiltily. Bronski glanced up, then went back to the paper.

Robinson rubbed his eyes, said “Hey, what are you--” there was a brilliant flash of light and Robinson was covered with a crackling light blue sheen. He seemed to fall in on himself, as if he were being sucked into a hole, and then he was gone. A small glowing cube fell to the floor. Bronski's mouth slowly fell open and stayed there. He stood up, staring stupidly at the cube, and finally turned to the door as it was thrown fully open. He stared in disbelief at the weirdly glowing gun, held in a slender blue hand at the end of an orange-clad arm. The freak was standing in the doorway, smiling an evil smile. Minion filled the space behind him.

Megamind pretended to do a double take. “Why look, Minion. It's Mr. Bronski!” he exclaimed.

“Well, how 'bout that,” Minion said, smiling like a shark.

Bronski gripped the edge of the counter at the bank of monitors. “Y-You killed him, you frea-”

Megamind strode into the room and aimed the gun at Bronski's head.

“What was that?” he said sharply.

Bronski nearly climbed backwards over the counter.

“I-I mean---mean--Megamind...” he said, wheezing. The gun wavered and shook a little. Too much for Bronski's comfort level. Bronski really, really hoped Megamind's trigger finger didn't slip.

“That wasn't so hard now, was it?” Megamind said cheerfully. “Now don't you worry about your buddy there, George. Mind if I call you George? He'll be right as rain as soon as---well, as soon as a little rain falls on him.”

Minion chuckled, in the approved manner of aspiring henchmen everywhere. One of his hands shot across the room, impossibly elongated, and took the gun from Bronski's holster. Bronski stared in amazement as the arm reeled back in, with a whirring noise like a fishing line. That was a new trick. Still smiling, Minion broke the gun in half.

Bronski didn't believe Megamind for a second. “You killed him. You vaporized him,” he said hoarsely.

Megamind frowned. “No no no, I dehydrated him. You know, de-hy-drate? If vaporization had occurred, there would have been, you know, vapors.” He tilted his head a bit, considering his audience. “That's another word for steam, George. He's not dead. He is merely taking a little rest. He can be reconstituted---that means 'changed back', by the way,--- by the application of some liquid, preferably water.” He shrugged and stepped closer. “Anyway, I just stopped by to say good-bye, thanks for the memories, that sort of thing, and I wanted to give you the chance to get a look at how well I'm doing.”

The gun barrel was pointing upward directly under Bronski's chin now. Bronski was standing on his toes. Megamind smiled broadly, tilting his face from side to side, waggling his eyebrows. Bronski stared at him wide-eyed.

“See? I'm all healed up. No scars or anything. Got the key card, Minion?” Megamind said.

“Got it, sir.”

Megamind stepped back a bit and Bronski settled fully on his feet again.

“Don't you feel better now? I know I do. Time to say good ni--”

Bronski shrieked “Don't kill me!”

Megamind grimaced and covered one of his ears with his free hand. “Could you scream louder? I can still hear a little out of this ear. Buck up! Take it like a man.” He pulled the trigger, there was a brilliant flash of blue-white, and a lingering cry of “NOOOOOoooo...” Another cube dropped to the floor.

“Oh, that was wicked, sir,” Minion chuckled. “I thought he was going to wet himself.”

Megamind grinned and blew smoke away from the gun barrel. His hands were shaking with nervous excitement. They'd taken out five guards. Pulling the trigger on the first one had been extraordinarily difficult, even though he knew it wouldn't harm him. Once he fired, he knew there was no going back. What else could they do? Reconstitute the guard and say “We were thinking of leaving, but we changed our minds. Mind letting us go back to our cell and pretending this never happened?” There was only one way forward. He and Minion were Getting Out.

Escaping the cell was the work of a moment.The checkpoint doors were a bit trickier. He wasn't sure his key-o-matic would disable them. The outer doors were on a separate computer system than the cells, but he hadn't wanted to waste time constructing another key-o-matic. It was a simple enough problem to solve. He just took the guards' security cards before dehydrating them.

It was a shame they couldn't say a proper farewell to everyone that deserved it. But really, it was for the best. Otherwise they'd be stuck here for another decade, launching vendettas.

“All right, Minion, now for the post-it notes.” It was only fair to leave the guards a clue.

\- - - - - -

John Parker woke up abruptly at the sound of the phone ringing. He squinted at the digital clock. It was 5:01 am. Joyce was due to come home from the hospital tomorrow...no, today. It couldn't be the hospital, could it? He hoped it wasn't serious news.

_Who am I kidding?_ he thought.  _At this time of day it's always bad news. It better not be Danny asking for money._

He groped his way across the bedroom and out into the hall. He found the light switch and picked up the receiver.

“Hello.”

For a moment there was silence, then a voice said “Mr. Parker?” Whoever it was sounded unacceptably gleeful for this hour of the morning, Parker felt.

“Yes.”

“Mr...John...Parker?” There was some giggling in the background.

“Yes,” he repeated, annoyed. He could tell this was some prank but he didn't slam the phone down right away. The voice was muffled, yet there was something familiar about it.

“The little bluebird says, better check your cages. A couple of pidge-ee-yons have flown the coop! Ha ha ha ha aha aha ha!” Parker winced and jerked his head away from the phone. The line went dead.

 _Well, that didn't sound suspicious at all,_ he thought, grimacing. He hung up, rummaged around in the end table's drawer for the list of emergency numbers, and was reaching for the phone to call the night watch at the prison when the phone rang again. He snatched it up on the first ring.

“Parker here, what is it?” he asked tersely.

The man on the other end of the line was somewhat taken aback at the warden's abruptness, as he hadn't expected Mr. Parker to be hovering over the phone at this early hour, but he rallied.

“Sorry to wake you, sir, but there's been a break-out. Megamind and Minion.”

“All right,” Parker said, rubbing a hand down his face. “I'll get dressed and come over as soon as I can.” _Little bluebird indeed._

“There's more, sir,” the guard said. “Five guards are missing, too.”

\- - - - - - 

When Parker drove his car through the prison gates it was still dark. He parked the car and went into the building. As he passed the first checkpoint he could hear the muted roar of the inmate population. All it took was one insomniac to notice the guards bustling around, one bored troublemaker to wake every other prisoner and alert them to the thrilling fact that two of their number had escaped. They'd have to keep the entire facility in lock-down for a day or two, and then the guards would have to deal with outbreaks of insubordination for some time.

Roberts, the head of the night watch, greeted him and fell in step as the warden walked swiftly along the hallway.

“Is Schmidt here yet?”

“He called and said he's on his way now. Couldn't get his car started.”

Parker nodded. The security chief's car was famous for its remarkable ability to break down just when it was most needed.

“How long has it been since the prisoners were last seen?”

“They were present at the one a.m. head count, sir. We think maybe it's been three hours since they skedaddled. You were informed about our missing men?”

Parker nodded. “There isn't any sign of them at all?” he asked. “Could they have been taken hostage?”

Roberts shook his head. “I don't see how. Nearly impossible to carry off five grown men without some kind of ruckus, even for Minion, I should think.”

They entered one of the inner hallways. The sound of men shouting and arguing grew louder. He came upon a group of guards, all of them yelling at once.

“Where are they, then?”

“---found these little cubes, what do you suppose it means?”

“Of course they're not bombs, stupid! There aren't any timers.”  
“We already looked everywhere.”

“They gotta be here, some closet somewhere!”

They hadn't noticed the warden yet, the noise level was so loud.

One of the guards, McClosky, came around the corner of a connecting hallway. He was holding a pile of glowing cubes in his arms, and a pitcher in one hand.

“Stand back,” he said excitedly. “I've got the water!”

As soon as the warden saw the cubes he knew what happened. He could see a post-it note was stuck to one of them. Parker couldn't read it at this distance but he guessed what it said: Just add water. Followed by a smiley face. He looked around. Most of the men present were newer employees; none of them knew about the dehydration gun.

McClosky put the cubes on the floor and took a few steps back with a determined look on his face. There was a controlled stampede as everybody took refuge around the corners, even the man who'd been so sure they weren't bombs.

“Gentlemen,” Parker said weakly, in the tones of one who knows he's up against the inevitable, “there's really no cause for---”

“Oh, warden! Just stay back, sir. We'll handle this,” one of the guards said gallantly. Parker sighed and clasped his hands behind his back as everybody else crouched and peered around the corner of the hall. McClosky braced himself, flung the water at the cubes and ran for it. There were flashes of light, and five disheveled and bewildered guards appeared where the cubes had been. Simpson reappeared standing on his head. His limbs flailed wildly for a second, before he crashed against another dazed man and they both landed in a heap. Bronski was still screaming his head off, but then stopped and looked around in confusion. Everybody began talking at once, as the guards helped their dazed comrades to their feet.

“That's some trick.”

“You okay? Are they okay?”

“Let go! I'm not hurt.”

“He had...the freak had a ray gun.” The newly-reconstituted guard caught sight of Parker and said, “I mean...Megamind had a ray gun.”

Parker overlooked the use of that unsavory nickname for the time being. The poor man had just been changed back from a cube, after all.

“It's called a dehydration gun,” Parker told them.“He invented it when he was about six. I've been keeping it in my office safe. He can dehydrate stuff with it, people too. I'm not sure what the limit on it is, but whatever or whoever he shoots gets compacted into a cube, and gets turned back when water is added.”

He hesitated. They were all staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. He turned his attention to the immediate matters at hand. The guards looked all right, if rather damp, but maybe they should be examined by a doctor, just in case.

\- - - - - - -

After the debriefing, Parker tromped wearily up to his office with Schmidt, who had arrived in a cab.

“Why'd they have to pick now to escape?” the security chief said, shaking his head. “January. Plenty of vicious weather ahead. Dumb kids.”

Parker stopped on the stairs. “Kids,” he said, giving Schmidt a puzzled frown.

Schmidt looked back. “Yeah. They came here at the same time, right? That Minion didn't talk at all for two years. He probably learned to speak the same time as the boy.”

It annoyed Parker that Schmidt should have been the one to make this thoughtful observation. Half the time Schmidt acted like matters would be significantly improved if Megamind were simply dropped into a pit and sealed in.

That old familiar pang of guilt squeezed Parker's chest. For the first time he wondered how old Minion was. Was he really dealing with two teenagers here? He thought he did a good job treating Minion decently, like he was a person instead of an animal, but now he wondered. He'd taken Minion for granted, like everybody did. Minion always took on the role of caretaker so readily, been little more than Megamind's shadow for a long time. That began to change as his robotic suits grew bigger and he wasn't so easily overlooked, but it was still easy to disregard him out of habit. Did his kind mature faster? Parker would have to satisfy his curiosity later, when the fugitives were apprehended.

Parker wondered if he should ask the police to check the homeless shelters, then shook his head. He sincerely doubted that they would try taking refuge there. They couldn't possibly blend in. He supposed Megamind could manage it, barely, if he completely covered himself, but there was no way Minion could disguise himself. He creaked when he moved. Sometimes he even rattled.

“Make sure the police know they are runaways, Walt. _Runaways,_ not escaped convicts. I don't want to get them back full of bullet holes.”

Schmidt nodded carefully. “I'll try to convince them, John, but if he's got that gun, it might make it more difficult. And you know what they'll have to do to survive.”

Parker sighed. Stealing. Breaking and entering. The legality of holding them in prison, when neither had been convicted of anything, had always hung over his head, boulder-like. Legal issues probably would not be much of a problem now. 

Parker's assistant was opening and slamming cupboard doors. He whirled around as Parker and Schmidt walked in.

“Warden,” he cried. “He replaced all the cups.”

Parker said, “Andrew, it has already been a long morning. Please do not make me guess. Who did what now?”

“It was Megamind, I know it! He got in here and took all the plates and coffee cups out of my cupboard and left these---these tea sets behind. What are we going to do for coffee breaks?”

 _Maybe a little less coffee would be a good change for you,_ Parker thought as he walked over to the cupboard. Andrew sometimes got all worked up about---he stopped, and stared into the cupboard in confusion. On the shelves were a few little stacks of plates and cups, looking like they'd come from a doll's house. Carefully he reached out, picked up one of the plates, and examined it.

“These aren't tea sets,” he said. “These ARE our plates. They've been shrunk.”

Schmidt gave a snort of laughter and shook his head ruefully.

“Shrunk?!” Andrew was outraged. “That's ridiculous!” He threw his hands up in the air.

Then Parker saw it, his own cup that his wife had given him, turned into a perfect miniature. The words “World's Best Warden” were just visible. Parker felt a vein begin to throb in his forehead.

 

 


	5. Meeting the Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time this story takes place, digital cameras and cell phones were just beginning to have an impact on consumer culture.

“Police have released sketches of the aliens that escaped from the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted, as no current photographs exist,” the anchorwoman on the TV said.

Gordon paused in the living room, his toothbrush in hand and mouth full of toothpaste. The picture on the TV showed a sketch of a young man who looked like a stereotypical big-headed Martian from an old sci-fi film.

“John Doe, aka Megamind, is fifteen years old. He is about five feet three inches tall, has _blue_ skin...” Gordon could almost hear her put the word in italics, “...and has green eyes.”

Gordon started to brush his teeth again as he walked back to the bathroom.  _Shouldn't think she'd have to say his eye color,_ Gordon thought with some amusement.  _The guy's_ _**blue,** _ _ fer cryin' out loud.  _ As he rinsed and spat, he could hear them saying something about a robot, but he couldn't really hear over the sound of the water running. By the time he emerged, the morning news team had moved on the next item. There was a camping and fishing expo at the civic center this weekend.

“Well, Stacy, looks like they're getting geared up for the big camping exhibition down there.”

“That's right, Gary! I'm here live at the Metro City Civic Center with...”

Gordon turned off the television. He locked the apartment and took the stairs instead of the elevator.

The sky was still dark. Gordon had gotten up extra early on this chilly winter's day so he could get in a full three mile run before work. He was quite proud that he'd been able to keep up with his New Year's resolution. He jogged in place for a moment, then did some quick stretches. He begun his run slowly.

He would run through the downtown area first, he decided, then maybe over the bridge and through the park. He thought about that newscast. He heard rumors there was an alien kept in the prison but it wasn't something he thought about too much. It was probably all nonsense, like all that stuff about that Wayne Scott kid. Gordon had seen news footage of Wayne Scott flying around, lifting trucks over his head with one hand. He was just waiting for the day when it was all exposed as a hoax.

He rounded the corner at Sixth Avenue. As he was jogging past Mercer's Grocery he heard a squeal of tires. He looked over his shoulder. A Ford Taurus had barely made the turn. Alarmed, Gordon backed up against the store as the car roared down the street. As it passed the store it leaped the curb, sailed into the air, and impaled itself on top of a fire hydrant.

Heart pounding, Gordon ran up to the driver's door and pulled it open.

“Hey, man, are you all...GAH!” Gordon backed up so fast he tripped and fell. He stared, mouth open and eyes wide, as the blue alien lurched unsteadily out from behind the steering wheel.

“Perfectly all right,” the blue boy said hoarsely, staggering a bit. “That was a little better, I'd say. What do you think, Minion?”

Bordon drew in his breath sharply as the passenger door opened and some THING clambered out. At first he thought the strange man was wearing a silver helmet, but then he realized it was a fishbowl with a ...catfish? On top of a robot body. The thing blinked at him. Ice water poured through Gordon's limbs.

The blue man said, “I think there's something wrong with the gas pedal, like the last...” Gordon screamed. The scream came out of some ancient, primal place that had no room for logic or reason. The alien flinched back against the car and screamed. Even the thing in the bowl screamed. Gordon scrabbled backward, crab-like, then finally found his feet and ran.

Megamind, gasping, held a hand clasped to his chest, and watched the man flee.

“Geez,” Megamind said weakly. “What's the matter with him?”

“I dunno,” Minion said a touch irritably. These driving lessons were taking a toll on his nerves. And they'd gone through four cars and he still hadn't gotten a chance to drive. “Maybe watching a car get all smashed up right in front of him got him all upset. Sir.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Rather long delayed reaction, though.” Megamind paused for further thought. “Seemed more like he was scared of us.”

Minion sighed and looked around. There were some lights in the surrounding windows. A few more flicked on. Probably the noise from the crash woke people up.

Megamind noticed the lights coming on too. “How far would you say it is back to the hideout?” Their current hideout was a large shed on the back lot of a gardening center, closed for the winter. It was secluded and well-hidden, and had the added benefits of being dark, dirty, and freezing.

“About twenty blocks.”

Megamind kicked petulantly at one of the tires. Driving shouldn't be so difficult. He'd seen enough movies and TV shows to know how it was done, and Scunner taught him that all you needed was a screwdriver and a cordless drill to get most vehicles started. The hot-wiring lessons were done on the sly; many of the prisoners disapproved of such a young kid learning the tricks of the trade. Starting a car turned out to be entirely different from actually moving it down the street.

A cab drove past. Megamind scowled as the cab drew level, and then the cab went on its way at a rather faster pace. Megamind narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“Sir, it's getting late.”

Megamind glanced at him, then turned to look after the cab again, disappearing around the corner. “Very well, Minion. Time to retire.” A Chevy Impala was parked nearby. Megamind pulled out the tools. Then, because time was pressing, Minion smashed the Chevy's window and Megamind got to work.

\- - - - - - -

One of the many things Megamind learned over the course of their first days of freedom was that walking sucked. The driving attempts tended to draw a lot of unwanted attention. After a crash they ended up on foot again anyway. Sometimes they were forced to flee the scene before they could steal another vehicle. The blocks and the miles stretched out before them and ate up their precious time. Despite the long winter nights, it seemed like they never had time for anything fun. They were always searching for food and shelter, and for safe places to clean up. More like they were scavengers, instead of steely-eyed fugitives from justice.

And it was freezing. Megamind couldn't remember being so cold in all his life. Back at home, no, back at the _prison,_ he corrected himself, he'd casually gone out to the courtyard for exercise along with the rest of the men, braving all kinds of weather. But then...and this, he belatedly realized, was the important bit... he always got to go back inside again after an hour or two, where it was warm. It was a bitter truth to discover he was used to the constant temperature of the prison building. He never stopped shivering. His fingers and toes ached. His face hurt. He was sure his ears would freeze right off before winter was over. The leather jacket he'd lifted from a guard's locker as they were leaving was not cutting it. It looked cool. And it kept him cool, too.

By the fifth night, Megamind was no longer loudly declaring that the cold didn't bother him a bit, and Minion sensed the time was ripe.

The sun was setting. Megamind was awake, still curled up in the sleeping bag.

“Should be a little warmer tonight, Sir,” Minion said.

There was a subtle shift in the huddled mass as Megamind lifted his head.

“Oh?” he said, in a voice completely lacking in concern.

“The radio says it'll only go down to 15 degrees,” Minion said. “And the wind chill will only be about 0 to 5.”

A wind gust rattled the shed's roof.

“That is good news,” Megamind said, hunching further in. His breath huffed a cloud into the frigid air.

Minion waited a few seconds, then said, “You know, Sir, I've been thinking...”

“Yes?” Megamind said quickly.

“Well, I was wondering if I could ask a favor.” He paused.

“Ask away, Minion.”

“Well, I was just thinking, I would feel a whole lot better, and I know it's asking a lot, it's just that it's been so cold...”

“Are the temp regulators working all right? Your water isn't starting to freeze, is it?”

“Oh! No, no, I'm fine, I hardly feel the cold at all!”

Megamind sighed. “That's good, then.”

“It's just that I would feel a whole lot better if I could get you a new coat. Just if you want to,” he added quickly. “I mean, it would mean a lot to me, then I wouldn't be so worried about this cold, and, well, it would, you know, make me feel better if I got you a coat, something with a hood. They say a lot of heat escapes from the head.”

Minion held his breath as Megamind considered the suggestion. The shed creaked.

“Very well, Minion,” he said, graciously bestowing the boon. “You may find me a new coat. If it makes you feel better.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir! We'll go to Miller Outfitters. They've got the best stuff.”

\- - - - - - -

“Hey, there's a fudge shop on the second floor!” Megamind said excitedly. His voice was loud in the silent sporting goods store. He swung his flashlight around and quickly located the escalator.

Minion was already blocking his path. “Coat first, Sir,” he said cheerfully.

He searched through the racks until he found an over-sized, dark green parka with a hood that fit over Megamind's large cranium.

Megamind stared at his reflection with wrinkled brows. The fake fur around the edges of the hood made him feel like he was in a nest. It was heavy. The sleeves covered his hands, which Minion seemed to think was a bonus. The hem went down to his knees.

“There! Warm enough?” Minion asked.

“This thing's a tent,” Megamind complained. He pulled in his arms and legs, and ducked his head inside until he was completely hidden from sight. “See?” he said, poking his head out again.

“Let's roll the sleeves up. There. Now your hands are free. Better? You have to wear it, Sir. It's got thinsulate.”

Megamind groaned. Minion was in full mothering mode. There was no stopping him.

“We have to go with this size, Sir. A smaller size won't have a big enough hood. It's the only way to keep your head covered. I guess I could shorten it. Do you think another store in this mall has a sewing machine? We should look.”

Minion hoped so. Megamind looked like a kid who'd gotten into his dad's wardrobe. All of his clothes needed alterations. Everything hung on him like a potato sack.

\- - - - - - - -

Megamind had to admit, he was a lot warmer in the new coat. He hated the hood, though. It made him feel like such a dork. He often refused to put the hood up, out of sheer stubbornness, unless the only other alternative was dying of hypothermia.

Minion took a coat for himself too, so he wouldn't be so noticeable. Sadly, his coat seemed more to emphasize his blocky robotic frame rather than hide it, but it was useful enough for short periods of time.

\- - - - - - -

Whenever a new inmate arrived at the prison, their usual reaction upon seeing the blue boy and his minion for the first time consisted of a slight widening of the eyes, followed by frowns and suspicious looks that generally only lasted a few weeks, until the new man got used to them and began treating them like everybody else did.

The public's reactions were radically different. No prisoner ever actually screamed or pointed or exhibited any other sort of un-macho behavior upon learning of their existence. This was something that happened on the streets on a fairly regular basis, though.

They only came out at night, when there were fewer people around, but such a large city never really slept. Occasional encounters were unavoidable. People usually backed away or fled from them. They had to keep moving, since within a few minutes of a chance encounter, they tended to hear sirens, closing in.

It took a few nights for them to realize where the sudden two a.m. crowds were coming from.

“This must be the 'bar scene' we've heard so much about, Minion,” Megamind said philosophically, as they observed a bar patron throwing up in the gutter. He shook his head. Some of the guards and prisoners talked proudly about how sick they'd gotten from alcohol at one time or another. Megamind had chalked it up to bragging, though it seemed a strange thing to be proud of. Drinking until you made yourself sick seemed counterproductive, but that appeared to be the goal.

Sometimes, especially if it were a group, people would bunch together for protection, and make excited comments like, “Do you think they see us?” and “It's the invaders!” and “Quick, get the camera.” Sometimes people even followed them, forcing Megamind to bring out the de-gun, or sic Minion on them. That tended to make these pests scatter.

He began to observe the types of camera they were using. There was something about the way people were holding them that piqued his interest. Sometimes they held the cameras up in front of them, as if they were afraid of getting the things too close to their eyes. He and Minion cornered one of these would-be photographers.

He plucked the camera from the man's hands and turned it over. There was a screen on it. He drew in his breath.

“Minion, it's digital,” he said excitedly. “I've read about them!” Glee lit his face. He beamed at his captive. “Do you know what you have here? Do you? Unlimited potential!”

The man swallowed. The cold metallic hand gripping his arm was sobering him up faster than a gallon of coffee. The fish was glaring at him in what seemed to be a hungry way. His buddies had all taken off, to get help. Presumably.

“You like the camera? You can keep it,” he said, nervousness making him generous.

They took it.

\- - - - - - - -

Finally Megamind had enough of the gawkers. He and Minion were looking for another car to steal when he realized they were being followed. He looked back over his shoulder. Sure enough, four people were trailing behind them about half a block away. He could hear them talking and giggling, their voices echoing against the buildings of the silent street.

“Let's just get out of here,” someone said.

“Don't be such a wuss, Doug,” a woman responded. “They're not real. It's just a mask.”

“No, it's true, they say there's gonna be an invasion any day now,” another woman said, sounding more excited than alarmed.

“You believe anything,” the second man scoffed. “I happen to know for a fact that he's the result of a lab experiment gone wrong. It's happening more and more these days.”

“That's a new one,” Minion muttered darkly. He threw them a dirty look.

“It's not real! I'll prove it!” the woman said. “Hey!” she shouted. “Hey you!”

Megamind stopped. This kind of thing was wearing thin.

“Angie,” one of the men said, grabbing at her arm. Angie shrugged him off and began stalking toward them, her heels clicking on the sidewalk.

Minion growled and moved to block her path but Megamind put his arm up to stop him. “I'll take this one, Minion.” He recognized a bully when he saw one, even if this one happened to be wearing high heels and a skirt. He wondered briefly how she could stand the freezing wind that poured relentlessly through the streets.

Megamind moved to stand in the light of the nearest street lamp. He tilted his chin up and glared at her as she approached. Angie's determined sneer began to fade the closer she got. When she was within a few feet her swagger was gone. Her eyes darted uncertainly between Megamind and the silent, glowering bulk of Minion who had also come into the light. Seeing them close up, with the street light illuminating their features, it was painfully obvious that the blue face in front of her was not, in fact, some cheap mask as she'd believed. She could hear the squeaks and creaks of the fish's armor, and even see the occasional bubbles rising through the fishbowl's water. She licked her lips nervously and said, “Uh...”

“Is that it?” Megamind said snidely. “That's the best you can come up with when confronted by a member of an alien race? A mere syllable? I tell you, Minion, the citizens of this city never cease to disappoint. I hope,” he said, turning back to her, “this is real enough for you.” He smiled and tugged at his cheek. “This ain't no mask, lady.” Angie shifted uneasily, clearly wanting to retreat but also not wanting to look like a total idiot in front of her friends.

Megamind drew the de-gun. Angie hastily lifted her hands. There was a murmur of alarm from the other three. “Get back to your friends,” he ordered. Angie backed up. He walked with her, turning on his most evil smirk. With Minion advancing as well, he was sure they were making an impression on these fools.

“Hand over your purses and wallets.” They were slow to comply, thrown off balance by this change of fortune. He pointed the gun at the first man in the line-up. “You first.”

“It just turns you into a cube,” the other man muttered, who knew so much about lab experiments. “I saw it on the...” He flinched and put his hands up when Megamind aimed the gun at him.

“Then you can be first,” Megamind said. “Let's have that watch, too.”

\- - - - - - - -

Later, in a back alley, as Megamind emptied out the cash and credit cards, Minion asked, “Sir, are we going to mug everybody who crosses our path?”

“If they don't show some respect, we will. I'm sick and tired of getting treated like a freak show,” Megamind said, tossing an empty wallet into the dumpster. “From now on, anybody bothers us, they're getting the full treatment. Fear and intimidation, Minion, will be our motto. People aren't going to bother us if they're afraid of us.”

“If you say so, Sir.”

\- - - - - - - - -

After they stole another car they parked (or crashed) behind a gas station/convenience store. Minion was operating the key-o-matic this time. Megamind was too busy hopping from foot to foot.

The key-o-matic, which looked like a cross between a pair of salad tongs and a stapler, was giving Minion some trouble. It was too small for his large fingers.

“Get it open already!” Megamind groaned.

Minion fumbled and finally got a grip on the trigger. “You know, there's a perfectly good alley right over there, Sir.”

“Perfect if you're a dog, or a homeless vag-grahnt. Just get the door open!” Megamind said, bent almost double.

_We're living in a shed,_ Minion thought.  _Doesn't that_ _**mean** _ _ we're homeless?  _ He sensed that this observation would not go over too well, so he didn't say anything. He put the device to the lock, as if he were going to do some serious stapling, and activated it. An electric charge crawled over the metal, tumblers turned, the security system went dead, and the lock unlocked. Minion pushed the door open. Megamind shoved past him and dashed into the rest room.

After the emergency was taken care of, he buckled the belt over his jeans. They were too big and flapped in the breeze, which drove him crazy. Minion even had to put extra holes in the belt so it would fit. He looked at the mirror. He was filthy.

_ This must be why people flee in terror,  _ he thought, grimacing. He pushed up the sleeves of his zippered sweatshirt and scrubbed his hands and arms. He lathered his head and face, leaning well over the sink so the water wouldn't run down into his clothes. After he straightened up he noticed with annoyance that there weren't any paper towels, only a hand dryer. He shook his arms vigorously and swiped as much water off his head and face as he could. He was about to finish drying off with the hand dryer when something in the mirror caught his eye. He leaned over the sink to look more closely.

“Minion,” he said. There was no answer.

“Minion,” he called more loudly.

“What?” came Minion's distant reply.

“Minion! Get in here!” he shouted.

Minion punched the restroom door open. It crashed against the wall, swinging hopelessly by one hinge, the massive dent sealing its fate. Minion darted around in his bowl, wildly looking around the room.

“WHAT! What is it!” he yelled.

“I have a BEARD! Look look look!” Megamind said, jabbing excitedly at his jawline.

Minion huffed out a breath in relief. He walked over and leaned down to examine Megamind's grinning features. He squinted. Sure enough, a thin whisper of dust lined his jaw.

“Oh! Oh, there it is. Um. Yes. Well done, Sir!” he said brightly.

“To the shaving products,” Megamind cried. He dashed out of the restroom. He hurried around the store's narrow aisles until he found the small selection of personal care items. He took all the razors, shaving cream cans and a grand totoal of three tiny bottles of after shave.

“This proves it, Minion,” he said grandly, dumping everything into a plastic bag. “I was right to take this course of action, to seize liberty. The air of freedom has brought maturity. I am a man, free to grow, to expand, to live!

“Now then,” he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “Grab that box of doughnuts, Minion. It's time to meet my driving instructor.”

“Don't forget your coat, Sir,” Minion said brightly, holding up the tent-parka.

“Oh, yes, mustn't forget that,” Megamind grumbled.

They raided the cash register, too, because that was what you did when you broke into a place.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Nick turned the cab around and made another pass up Bleaker Avenue. He was about to call it a night. The fares had pretty much dried up by now. It was a weeknight and there weren't too many peop;e out. He caught a glimpse of someone waving to him from the corner. Two people in hooded coats. Looked like a couple. The smaller figure was bouncing up and down.

He pulled over to the curb. If he had been paying attention he would have noticed that, despite the cold, the big man's breath was not fogging the air. As the couple got into the back seat there was a puzzling creak of metal coming from somewhere.

“Cold one, isn't it?” Nick said automatically, invoking the standard conversation starter. Neither person answered. They closed the car door. A metal fist shot out of the man's sleeve and demolished Nick's CB radio.

“Hey!” Nick yelled. The man pulled his hood back and revealed the floating, grinning Minion.

“Just take it easy, now,” Minion said. Nick scrabbled at his door handle, trying to get it open. Heavy hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down into the seat. “Easy does it. No one's going to hurt you.” Nick was having trouble breathing.

The smaller person pulled his hood back and Nick was not at all surprised to see the blue alien he'd seen on TV.

“Nice work, Minion. And it certainly is a cold one,” he said, smiling.

“Hey, just take the money, there isn't much there...”

Megamind slung himself over the back of the seat. Nick's eyes swiveled nervously to the de-gun dangling casually from his black-gloved hand.

“What's your name misterrrr...Nick Connor,” Megamind said, catching sight of Nick's license on the dashboard. “You know me?”  
“Uh, yeah, I've seen you on the news. You're Megamind. People have sent in pictures.”

Megamind's grin widened. “Great. We really must get a television, Minion. Now, contrary to what you may have heard, I am not here to rob you. I need something much more valuable.”

Nick couldn't guess what that might be. “What?” he asked shakily, certain he wouldn't like the answer.  
“Education. Driving lessons, of course,” Megamind cried, raising his hands.

“You want to learn to drive?” Curiosity mad him turn a little more towards his captors. As he looked at Megamind's eager young face a thought occurred to him. “How old are you?”

“I'm...twenty-five,” Megamind said, voice cracking.

There was a muffled snort from Minion, quickly cut off.

Megamind glared at him. “Did you have something you wanted to say, Minion?”

“No, no, not me, Sir.”

“Because it sounded like you were about to say something,” Megamind said.

“I-I was just clearing my throat, Sir,” Minion said.

“Well, let's hope you don't have any more attacks of throat dryness. So, how about it, Nick?” Megamind said, turning back to the front. “I'm the sort who doesn't really care much for following the rules, but first I need to knw what the rules  _ are.  _ In exchange, I promise not to take your money, you get to keep your cab, and...um...Minion won't rip your arms off.”

“Sir!” Minion looked shocked.

“What?” Megamind snapped, exasperated. “Too harsh for your sensibilities? How about... Minion won't clobber you on the head. I hope that meets with your approval,” he said to Minion sarcastically.

Minion sniffed. “Yes. Yes, it does,” he said with hurt dignity.

_ How can I refuse?  _ Nick thought. “All right, mister-”

“Megamind,” said the alien. “Just Megamind.”

\- - - - - - - -

The cab flew down the freeway, considerably over the speed limit. Megamind gripped the steering wheel, grinning like a maniac. Nick clutched the dashboard and door handle with a white-knuckled grip. Minion was hanging out the window. He couldn't feel the wind but somehow the landscape whipping by seemed so much closer and more exciting when he hung out the window.

The radio blared. “The Immigrant Song” by Led Zeppelin came on.

“Hey, I love this one!” Megamind said, turning it up louder.

Nick hoped the lesson was almost over.

They whooshed by an SUV. Minion waved at them, giving them his toothiest grin. Then he noticed a woman in the vehicle holding a cell phone to her ear.

Quickly Minion rolled up the window. He should have noticed the sky was getting lighter. It was morning. Traffic was much heavier. They whizzed by more cars. Minion reached over the back of the seat and turned off the radio.

Megamind glanced at him in surprise. “What did you do that for?”

“Sir, you better slow down and find an exit ramp. Sun's up. Look at all the traffic. That one lady back there had a phone.”

Megamind grumbled, but he eased off the gas.

“And I'm sure Nick would like to go home now,” Minion said, glancing at the cabbie. Nick relaxed a fraction and dared to hope he would get out of there in one piece.

Megamind took the next exit and drove down a side street. They were passing some apartment complexes that had seen better days. There was block after block of squat brick buildings, all them exactly alike. Megamind glanced briefly at Nick. He supposed he didn't really have to dehydrate the cabbie. That seemed a tad ungrateful. But he would probably have to take the cab, despite his promise not to steal it. They were miles from their hideout, and needed a vehicle. Nick had been so helpful, though, explaining the rules of the road, and describing how to handle different sorts of road conditions. Because of his instruction, Megamind now knew that a yellow light did not, in fact, mean “floor it,” which was the impression he'd gotten from his observation of other drivers.

Then he saw it. A white van was parked at the curb. A yellow clamp was attached to the front wheel and there were numerous parking tickets and flyers tucked under the windshield wipers.

Megamind pulled over. He stepped out into the chilly dawn and walked around the van. There was just a little rust on the left fender. He peered in the window. It seemed to be full of garbage, but that could be cleared out. And the keys were in the ignition! He could see the key chain with ZZ Top embossed on it. He drew the de-gun, aimed carefully at the clamp, and fired. The clamp was successfully cubed, leaving the tire intact. Megamind sighed in satisfaction.

“Our new wheels, Minion,” he said, as Minion climbed out of the back seat. He walked up to the cab where Nick was sitting in the passenger seat and knocked on the window.

“Thank you for your assistance, Nick. As per our agreement, you get to keep your cab and your money. You,” Megamind gestured broadly at the street ahead, “are free to go.”

Nick didn't need to be told twice. He practically dove into the driver's seat and took off with a squeal of tires.

“Bye!” Megamind smiled and waved. “Can you believe it, Minion? Just when we needed a ride, too. If that's not destiny, I don't know what is.” 

“We should get different plates for it. That cab driver might've seen them,” said Minion.

“I should go get my driver's license, huh?” Megamind laughed, smacking Minion's chest.

“Yeah, your best idea yet,” Minion said dryly. “Do I get to drive now?”

“Very well. Driving us back to the hideout can be your first lesson.” He held out his hand and Minion gave him the tools. Megamind proceeded to get the van door open. “And by the way, Minion, it does not work, discussing threats in front of the victim. Think about how that looks. How can they take us seriously if we argue over consequences?”

“Sorry, Sir,” Minion said meekly. “It kinda caught me off guard. It won't happen again.”

“I mean, it wasn't as if I  _ really  _ expected you to rip his arms off if he refused,” Megamind said. He shuddered. “Ick.” 

 


	6. Artful Dodging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have included a few phrases in Spanish, German, and Chinese. My apologies for any mistakes I may have made.

__

“ _ **You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.” -Colette**_

* * *

 

 

Chapter 6: Artful Dodging

 

One good thing about working at the all-night gas station was that there was plenty of study time, Ronnie reflected. Despite being the victim of two robberies in the past six months, Ronnie hung in there. Gas stations were always getting robbed and he needed this job. His scholarship didn't cover everything. Right now his biggest regret was taking the algebra course, It was killing him.

He glanced up as a van pulled into the station, then looked wearily down at the text book. After a few minutes the bell over the door gave a little ring. When he saw who had come in, he straightened up slowly and held onto the counter with both hands, as if that would save him.

The little blue guy in the big coat smiled brightly at him and proceeded to walk through the store, grabbing items off the shelves and tossing them to his clanking companion.

“I'll have that, and one, no, two of these and some of those. Better just take the whole box, Minion.”

Ronnie glanced towards the back of the store, where the exit beckoned, but he knew he wouldn't make it. They were coming toward him already. Megamind irritably shook back one of his sleeves and adjusted his black leather gloves. _Here comes robbery number three,_ Ronnie thought, half-raising his hands. He wondered when the gun was coming out.

Minion laid a package of beef jerky, two bottles of pop, and an open display box of candy bars, one-third full, on the counter.

“Now then,” Megamind said briskly, pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket, “we have all this, and thirteen gallons of gas, so this should be more than-”

Minion thunked a bag of apples and a bag of carrots on the counter. “These too, Sir.”

Megamind gave him a pained smile. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “Of course.  _As I was saying,_ this should be more than enough to cover it.”

He slapped a small stack of bills down and leaned forward. Ronnie didn't dare move. “You can keep the change,” Megamind said, raising his eyebrows and and giving Ronnie a very deliberate nod.

Ronnie looked at the money. The one on top was a twenty. The next one had a definite twenty-ish look to it as well. There were at least four more underneath that one. He stared at them.

Megamind frowned. “Don't you speak English? Habla usted espanol? Sprechen sie Deutsch? Ni hui shuo hanyu?”

“I don't know about Chinese, Sir. Try Swedish.”

Ronnie managed to say, “I'm English. I mean American. I mean I speak English.”

Megamind smirked. “How nice for you. I plan on visiting this establishment again, as long as things remain  _quiet_ and  _undisturbed,_ if you know what I mean.” He winked. “And there is bound to be more compensation for you, so long as your continue to provide stellar service.”

“Huh?” Ronnie wasn't having trouble with algebra for nothing.

Megamind closed his eyes and sighed hugely. He opened his eyes again. “Don't tell anyone you saw us...”Megamind pointed at Minion and himself several times. “...and I will give you more money...” he rubbed the thumb and fingers of one hand together, “...the next time I come here. Did I use too many big words that time?” he said sarcastically.

“Uh, no, no. I mean, sure, okay, I guess,” Ronnie gurgled.

Megamind's smile came back. “Excellent. Well, ring it up.”

Hesitantly, Ronnie managed to add everything in. “Uh...$27.58.”

Megamind was opening the beef jerky. Minion put the other items in a plastic bag. “Like I said, keep the change. You got questions three and four wrong. 'Y' equals '4x plus 17', and 'A' equals '23b plus c squared'. We're off!” Megamind turned and strode out the door. Minion gave Ronnie an impassive look and followed.

Ronnie stared at his smudged notebook paper, then grabbed his pencil and quickly wrote down the answers before he could forget.

After the van drove off, Ronnie examined the bills. There were seven 20-dollar bills. He quickly stuffed five of them into his pocket. He put the rest in the register, carefully counting out the change and pocketing that as well. The security cameras were usually never checked unless there was a robbery or some other trouble, but if questioned he could claim he was too scared to refuse the money.

Well, they hadn't robbed the place anyway, had they? This was just a tip, that was all, and he said he'd be back, with more. This could really help with books and stuff.

He looked at his text book. Megamind had solved two problems in his head, from an upside down book. Ronnie decided to bring in his chemistry homework next time. Maybe there would be some help there, too.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Did you really need to bribe him? You know you're going to have to give him that much every time, Sir,” Minion said.

“A little money greases the wheels,” Megamind said cheerfully. He turned the volume up on Nirvana's “Smells Like Teen Spirit” blaring from the radio, nodding along to the music. “I can always get more. There's plenty!” Spending money gave him a new thrill. He'd never bought anything before! They'd taken money whenever they came across it, but they stold whatever else they needed, too. There seemed to be no need to try to buy food or clothing or tools. The money was just gathering dust, really, and beginning to pile up.

Stolen food continued to be their amin form of sustenance. Megamind might not have minded throwing more money around, but it was simply too much of a hassle to try to bribe the entire staff at a restaurant.

Sometimes Megamind and Minion ambushed delivery guys as they were about to get into their cars, or they would spot a delivery vehicle and follow them around until they reached their destinations, and then rob them. Some restaurants began adding extra delivery charges, for emotional wear and tear on the drivers.

Megamind was almost giddy over the overwhelming variety of food: Chinese, Italian, Indian, Mexican, fast food.

Luigi's was the best. This time they stopped some customers as they were leaving the place.

“I'll take that,” he grinned at the stunned faces, deftly handing the loot to Minion. He turned and saw a couple of men a little further along the sidewalk. One of them was quickly putting a camera back in his pocket.

The men stepped back warily as he marched over to them.

“Go on, take another,” he said, smirking. They glanced at each other. Megamind gestured impatiently. “The camera, take another photo. Go on.” Hesitantly, the man produced the camera again. Megamind grinned and struck a pose, hands on hips, chest stuck out.

“Send it in the news so I can be sure to see it. I'll be able to tell if you're any good as a photographer or not.” He swept past and on down the sidewalk.

“What happened to being sick and tired of getting treated like a freak show?” Minion muttered.

“Oh, this is different,” Megamind said airily. “Besides, they can put me on TV again.”

_Never should have let him get that portable TV,_ Minion thought.

A police car pulled up outside the restaurant a block behind them. Megamind immediately slipped into the nearest alley, Minion close behind.

“They showed up pretty fast,” Minion said as they ran. “We might be hitting this place too often.”

“Point taken, Minion,” Megamind said, accelerating.

Megamind was rapidly getting into the best shape of his young life. By necessity, he'd already mastered the sprint, but it was impossible to run very far in the prison. Pretty quick, you ran up against a locked gate or a wall, or, worst of all, the person you were trying to get away from. Outside, there were endless opportunities for increasing one's stamina. Running for more than a few blocks used to leave him wheezing. Now it was the work of a moment to run down the alley, over the fence, across the back lot, through the laundromat, hide behind the dumpster and cut back to the van.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The garden shed was history. Megamind couldn't stand the cold anymore, even with a mountain-durable sleeping bag. Their new hideout was the basement of an apartment building. It was noisy with the clanking and rumbling of the water heater, air vents, and furnace, but it was considerably warmer. And riskier. Anyone might come down there anytime. There were no stoarage facilities or laundry rooms, (those seemed to be on higher floors) but a superintendent or some maintenance worker might come down there for some reason and because of this possibility neither of them slept very well.

If they could have moved into the basement of the library, they definitely would have. They's spent a number of pleasant nights there, among the wealth of books and magazines. The library basement was well-used; much was stored there and it looked as if it were visited regularly, so moving in was out of the question.

One night Minion found Megamind in one of the library offices, staring intently at the computer. He looked over his shoulder.

“Is that an ad for a store?” Minion asked, looking at the list of electronics.

“It's the Internet,” Megamind almost whispered.

Minion could barely drag him away before dawn.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

One morning they returned to their hideout to find a family of four hovering over their belongings. Megamind recognized them as homeless, he'd seen enough of them by now, what with the way they seemed to be wearing every item of clothing they owned. There were a few garbage bags slumping dejectedly around them, too, no doubt containing the rest of the family's stuff. The man was shaking out Megamind's sleeping bag. A cloud of dust wafted off it. They all turned as Megamind and Minion entered, with typical reactions.

The man flung the sleeping bag down as if it had caught fire. The woman gasped and grabbed the child next to her around the shoulders. The smaller child in her arms sniffled and blinked.

“We weren't taking your stuff, man, I had to get something to keep her warm, Marie's sick, we gotta keep her warm, there was nobody here, look, just let us leave, we won't say anything,” the man babbled. He had his arms raised in the universal 'let's everybody stay cool, now' gesture.

Megamind had pulled the de-gun out of his coat pocket automatically, but he wasn't aiming it. His elbow was bent, and he held the gun up, pointing at the ceiling. His surprise at finding them there faded into confusion. It was barely 5:00 in the morning. What were they doing here at this hour? Did the homeless shelter kick them out? Had they just gotten convicted? He wondered which one was Marie, but there wasn't time for an interview. Should he try bribing them? But he knew no matter how much money he gave them he would never feel safe here again.

He should dehydrate them immediately. Then they could have their place back. He could re-hydrate them later that evening, but he couldn't trust that they wouldn't blab abut running into the fugitives. Their hideout was ruined.

He should still dehydrate them. At least he and Minion would have one more day here. But he hesitated. Minion shifted behind him and cleared his throat as if he were wondering when Sir would get on with it.

Megamind looked around the frightened faces. In his mind's eye he could see how it would go. He'd shoot the man first, he was standing in front, and as the glittering cube fell the woman would scream, or maybe she'd attack him, she looked pretty wild-eyed, and he'd shoot her too and the the children would cry...

“Get our stuff, Minion, we're leaving,” he said.

Minion silently shoveled their clutter and clothes into the backpacks. When he went to pick up the sleeping bag, Megamind said, “Leave that. They can use it.”

He regretted his generous impulse immediately. Fear and alarm shot across the faces of the adults, quickly replaced by blank features that hid their true feelings and he knew that they would sooner touch the blanket of a smallpox victim. A hot iron ball settled in his throat.

The sleeping bag lay where it had fallen as he walked to the stairs.

By unspoken agreement, Minion took the wheel of the van. Megamind slouched down in the passenger seat and crossed his arms over his stomach. Minion pulled away from the curb and drummed his fingers on the wheel. Megamind could tell that Minion kept glancing over at him but he stared stonily out the window.

Minion said, “I think we should go to that theater. They're only open on the weekends. I don't think anybody even goes in there on Mondays and Tuesdays.”

Megamind shrugged his thin shoulders. They could drive around all day for all he cared.

The rest of the ride was a silent ordeal.

They entered the theater through a back door.  _And that's how it would be,_ Megamind thought furiously, striding down the dark hall.  _For the rest of our days we'll sneak in through the back._ Already he felt like he knew every damn cellar, basement, back lot, and alleyway in the city. They might as well move into the sewers and get it over with. The only was forward was down. It was a bad day when you even had to make way for some miserable wretches who didn't...didn't even...

His vision blurred. He walked faster. He found the restroom almost by accident and went int, hoping Minion wouldn't follow. He got the water turned on just in time and leaned on the sink. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the tears run down his nose. Fortunately it didn't last long. The ache in his throat eased.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and wiped his eyes and face. He began to pace around, running his fingertips over the smooth tiles and stall doors.

He was just tired, that was all. He didn't care what a bunch of random strangers thought. He paced faster, fuming. He wasn't sad or depressed, or, or, or homesick. Those children. If those kids hadn't been there it would have been easier. He almost never saw anyone younger and smaller than himself. On visiting days at the prison, he had long made a habit of spending the day in the library or the mechanic's bay, so he wouldn't accidentally run into any of the families that came to visit the other inmates.

He certainly wasn't homesick. Far from it. He didn't miss anybody, not Harry or Sid or Lenny, and definitely not...

_Unbidden, a memory surfaced. Blue was four. He'd been crying. He sat on the warden's lap, sniffling and hiccuping, holding Minion's bowl his own lap. Mr. Parker had his arm around his shoulders. With his other hand he gently wiped the tears off Blue's face._

_It's okay, bud,” Mr. Parker said. “That man's not coming back. Minion's all right, isn't he?”_

_Blue managed a shaky smile and held Minion up for inspection._

_The warden smiled back. “Yeah, he looks okay to me. Everything's all right.”_

Megamind stopped his pacing, and stared blankly at the wall. It was odd, but he couldn't remember what had led up to this incident. What was...

His face twisted. He struck a stall door so it crashed open. It didn't matter. He'd been upset, and the warden had dried his tears. Big deal. Now Parker gave him nothing but lectures and looks of resigned dismay and thought he was nothing but a troublemaker. Everybody had these expectations.

_Even Minion has expectations. I'm the one in charge. He depends on me to mae the right decisions. All this pressure!_ Megamind thought with growing wrath.  _He probably thinks I made a mistake._

Megamind slammed out of the restroom.

Minion took a couple steps back. Megamind's gaze could've burned holes through concrete.

“I suppose you think I should have shot them,” Megamind said, jabbing an accusing finger.

Minion twisted his hands together. “Well, I-I-I, no, I didn't think that. I was kinda glad you didn't, Sir, not that you couldn't,” he added quickly. “Or anything. It was just sort of...not right. Just, just not worthy. Wouldn't have been much of a challenge, eh, Sir?” Minion laughed nervously.

Megamind could already feel his anger draining away. He let his gaze travel slowly around the ceiling and ornate light fixtures. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I suppose it wouldn't have been very sportsmanlike, to shoot such obviously pathetic individuals.” He took a deep breath and huffed it out. “As usual, Minion, you have hit on the crux of the matter.” He smiled and clapped him on the arm. “Let's find the lights ofr this place and do some exploring!”

They spent an agreeable few hours uncovering the scenery backstage and rooting around in the costumes.

“Ooo, look at this,” Megamind said, holding up a black cape with a rakish collar. He tossed it around his shoulders and clasped it. It dragged on the floor. He pulled the rest of the costume off the hanger. There was a white mask to go with it. Half a mask, anyway. He went over to the full-length mirror, cape trailing behind him. He flipped the cape off one shoulder and held the mask up.

“Why do you suppose it's just half a mask?” he mused. He liked the contrasting colors of the black cape against his skin, and the bone whiteness of the mask.

“Hmm,” said Minion, looking at a wall poster. “Must be this guy here, Sir.”

Megamind laughed when he saw the title. “Phantom of the Opera! Menacing.”

He tried the rest of the costume, but it was, of course, too big. After some more rummaging, he found sort of a green elf suit with tights that very nearly fit. Looked odd with the cape though, so he switched back to his regular clothes. Minion tried on the hats.

Megamind spent quite a lot of time climbing the huge curtain on the stage, then the ropes. Finally, with much effort, he managed to climb all the way up to the catwalk. He walked around on it, then tried balancing on the handrail. He nearly tripped over the cape once. Minion went into conniptions, and threatened to come up there and drag him down if he didn't stop doing that. Megamind laughed.

“I'd like to see you try!” he shouted. “Your arms can't stretch this far!” He swung on one of the roopes for a bit, then finally had pity on Minion and slid down the stage again. The cape flared out as he descended. He swung around his arms, making the fabric soar out and around him as he dashed back and forth on the stage.

Having worn himself out at last, he made sort of a nest of the costumes and went to sleep. Minion floated down the bottom of his containment unit and went to sleep, too.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That evening they searched the old industrial district. Megamind was determined to find a place that he could claim as his own. The area was a mix of empty lots, barely-active businesses and abandoned buildings. There were a number of warehouses in the area which were still in use, and a few small workshops. They would have to be careful not to be noticed by the employees of these places; some of the businesses had erratic work hours.

An ancient fire station was tucked away on a side street. There was a mural of an old-time horse-drawn engine painted on the side of it. The fire station was rather intriguing, and had a certain appeal, but the old building looked close to collapse. A buoyantly optimistic sign hammered to the front door declared that this was a future Historic Landmark and would be scheduled for restoration within the year. A date printed at the bottom of the yellowing, cracked sign was four years old. There seemed to be little danger that the Historical Society was going to descend on the place any time soon.

There was an abandoned factory behind itthat seemed a better choice, despite the gaping hole in the roof. The floor was sound. Against all logic, it was even colder inside than it was outside, as if it were a giant freezer, but at least the factory was fairly isolated, being placed even further back than the fire station. There was a garage door in the back, accessible only by the alley. The main floor was littered with old machines of uncertain usage and a number of rusty tools.

There was also a rest room, complete with a ghastly shower. Megamind wasn't even going to think about inspecting the toilet stalls.

Trying not to touch anything, he peered cautiously into a sink. It was caked with rust and grime. The faucets were practically fossilized.

“The pipes are probably frozen,” Minion muttered, but he reached out, grabbed one of the faucet handles, and wrenched it open. The faucet rattled and groaned, there was a loud clanking somewhere deep inside the wall, and a thin red trickle of water streamed out, adding to the colorful motif in the bottom of the sink.

“Urk,” said Minion. He hastily forced the faucet handle closed. He and Megamind shared a grimace. Hygiene was going to continue to be a challenge.

“I think we can board up the door to this room,” Megamind said, hurrying back out to the main floor.

The basement was spacious, and surprisingly free of clutter. A massive corroded furnace took up almost a quarter of the room. There were two wooden tables, a few empty cardboard boxes, and a ping-pong table. A cardboard box sitting next to it contained three ping-pong paddles and several crushed and broken balls. Megamind examined the cobwebbed ceiling and walls. There were some electrical outlets. He brightened a little. He could set up a proper work bench in here. The gardening shed, cold and dank, was not conducive to even the thought of a workbench. At the prison, he'd basically had a few shoe-box sized corners hidden here and there for various projects. Here, there was room to spread out, and no need to hide anything from nosy guards.

Consumed with survival issues, he hadn't had any time or inclination to build anything. He hadn't constructed anything since he made the key-o-matic and the ceramic shrinker back at the prison. The ceramic shrinker was a special attachment for the de-gun and, sadly, had accidentally gotten crushed when Minion stepped on it. It was just a novelty, really, only good for shrinking objects made out of ceramic, like cups and plates. He made the device to shrink the dishes in the warden's office, purely for annoyance purposes.

“This place can be our hideout, Minion,” he said. “And my lab.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Megamind hacked into the power grid and discretely began siphoning very small amounts of electricity from a number of businesses and residential building in the southeast quadrant. It was more than enough.

The power company employees noticed a small discrepancy in the numbers, but when the readers were adjusted, the discrepancy disappeared. They chalked it up to a glitch and thought no more about it.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They always parked the van in a secret location and walked to the library. Megamind didn't want the van sitting outside the library all night.

They were two blocks away when a movement caught Megamind's eye. Someone was sitting in a car parked at the curb, just off the library's parking lot. Though the car was in shadow, he had seen the outline of a person scratching his head. With a suspicion that had become second nature to him, and without breaking stride, he slipped around the corner of the shoe store. They walked down a block, took another left, then approached from around the back of the bakery, keeping to the dark.

They had a good view of the front and north side of the library. After a moment Megamind said quietly, “You see it, Minion? Parked on that side street?”

“The unmarked car with two men in it? Or the black and white one over there?”

Megamind chuckled. “Well spotted, my scaly friend. One could hardly miss the glow of the cigarette. It occurs to me, Minion, that it doesn't take a genius to escape the attentions of Metrocity's finest. How much you want to bet there's another car somewhere in the back?”

“Hmph. I wouldn't be surprised, Sir,” Minion said, and sighed. “How do you suppose they found out?”

“Oh, who knows? Maybe the warden told them I like books and they finally got it into their little cop minds that the library has lotsa books in it.”

Megamind felt rather depressed. He'd been looking forward to getting some reading done. He and Minion were so careful not to leave any mess or piles of books lying around, to ensure that no one could tell someone was rooting around in the library at night. He'd been considering taking a few books along with him this time, now they had their own place.

He stamped his feet. They were getting numb. Finding biker boots in the right size had taken some doing. The boots did a fairly decent job keeping his feet warm, but it was especially frigid and damp tonight, with a light mist that wormed its way in under every layer he was wearing. At least he'd found some skinnier jeans that didn't flap in the wind.

He thought about finding a way to sneak it, right under the cops' noses, but reluctantly decided it would be too risky. Even these knuckleheads would be alerted by movement from inside the building, and the library had many huge windows. He was about to tell Minion they should be going when there was a brief flash of white in the sky. He froze.

A figure dropped lightly out of the sky and landed next to the black and white squad car. There was only one person it could be. The two cops got out of their vehicle. Even at this distance Megamind could hear them greeting Wayne Scott, boy wonder.

Minion shuffled and whimpered a little.

“Quiet!” Megamind whispered. His own heart was pounding. Did Wayne have his lousy super-hearing turned on or not? He'd read an interview a few years back in which Wayne said he could turn his super-hearing on or off at will.

“I just do it. Or else I'd never get any sleep,” Wayne had shrugged and smiled charmingly, as the interviewer gushingly described it.

It was probably crap. Nobody could turn their hearing on and off.  _I'll bet he just tunes out stuff he doesn't want to hear,_ Megamind thought.

No, Wayne wasn't aware of them, not yet, anyway, or else he'd have grabbed them by now. But if he decided to really  _listen,_ what then? Would he hear their heartbeats? Their breathing? Would he hear the water cycling through Minion's containment unit? If he decided to take a look around with his x-ray vision, they were screwed.

Wayne was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. His youthful muscles moved and rippled in the streetlight like a prize stallion's.  _He doesn't feel the cold, of course. Bastard,_ Megamind thought sourly. The men from the unmarked car wandered over to the little group. They all talked and laughed. Now Megamind's feet were really cold, but he didn't dare move. Time stretched on and he was getting more aggravated by the second. His nose hairs were starting to freeze.

_Worst police stakeout I've ever seen,_ Megamind thought, from his vast experience of having observed exactly one stakeout.  _Those bozos couldn't catch a stray dog, with all the noise they're making._

After an unbearable amount of time, Wayne seemed to be saying good-bye. At last he flew off, no doubt to spread cheer and goodwill elsewhere. Megamind and Minion slumped against the wall in relief.

“I think...maybe we should call it a night, Minion,” he said. “But we'll make a quick stop at a bookstore first.”

__

 

 

 


	7. The Girl of His Dreams

_**Today's quote is an excerpt from a poem by Rumi:**_

_**The intellect says: “The six directions are limits: there is no way out.”** _

_**Love says: “There is a way. I have traveled it thousands of times.”** _

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The waters of the lake were rising. Megamind hurried through the streets, the sound of his breathing loud in his ears, looking for the door. He splashed through puddles that were filling up and running together as the water began its inexorable march inland. It was ankle deep. His feet were soaked. The distant murmur of the lake became a muted roar. It was flexing its muscles, working its way up to a tidal wave. He sloshed on.

Now the water was over his knees, threatening to carry him off his feet. He grabbed desperately at the handrail and pulled himself onto the stairs. The water surged upward, pulling at him, trying to drag him back, but he broke free. He ran up the stairs and into the building.

He paused to catch his breath. He straightened his tux and opened the ballroom doors. He was greeted by a mass of colorful, whirling figures, laughing and dancing. He stepped slowly into the room. The ceiling was higher than a cathedral's, and pillars lined the dance floor. The main wall in front had a massive window, giving a breath-taking view of the moonlit lawn, and glass doors. Smaller windows flanked it. There was no sign of the flood that had driven him here.

His father stepped out of the crowd, wearing the silver outfit customary for their people.

The older man spoke, and Megamind couldn't understand a word. “I'm sorry, I don't know what you're...saying...,” he said. He had responded in English. That couldn't be right. He should know the right words, he should know how to speak properly, but even the few words he knew were just out of reach, like whispering in another room that he couldn't quite hear.

His father spoke again, urgently. “I can't understand you,” Megamind said miserably.

His mother stepped in front of him, eyes green as his own. “You forgot your mask,” she said, and blindfolded him.

“What! Hey!” he protested and snatched it off. They were gone. He pushed through the cheerful crowd in a growing panic, calling for them. The people pressed around him, the women in colorful ball gowns, the men in black tuxedos, but they were all strangers, all _aliens._

On the other side of the room the crowd thinned. A long row of empty chairs stood along the wall. A girl sat in one of the chairs, peering around the ballroom. She looked at him and her face lit up in a bright smile.

“There you are!” she cried, leaping to her feet.

He glanced over his shoulder. _There who is?_ he wondered, as she reached out and grabbed his hand. She pulled him onto the dance floor. When she turned to him he automatically held up one arm to place it around her waist. She reached for his other hand and frowned.

“Do you really need that thing?” she asked, wrinkling her nose and tilting her head to one side.

He was still holding the blindfold. The mask. It had proper eye holes now, and was blue, exactly the same shade as his skin. He shrugged, and gave her a crooked smile.

“I certainly do,” he said, putting it on. He spun around with her, falling into the steps of the dance as if his feet had been taking lessons without him. Part of him was in shock. He'd never held a girl in his arms before. He moved fluidly, twirling around with her like a champ. She wore a gown of white edged with gold. Her long brown hair was tied back in a braid, her bangs curved gently over her eyebrows, and there was a faint dusting of freckles over her nose. Her blue eyes sparkled.

“I didn't think you'd make it, Megs,” she said.

“Neither did I. Traffic was unbelievable,” he said. He felt a pleasant fluttering sensation in his stomach. Whoever called him 'Megs'? He looked into her eyes and decided that she could go ahead and call him whatever she wanted.

There was a distant cry of “Four!” and one of the smaller windows shattered as a golf ball flew in and rolled across the dance floor. An elf wearing a skin-tight green outfit climbed in the window, cursing and grumbling.

“Do you mind? I'm trying to play through here,” he said testily as he elbowed his way through the throng.

“Always playing games,” the girl sighed.

A shadow passed overhead, the sound of wings momentarily drowning out the music. A crow settled on a little ledge at the top of one of the pillars.

There was another cry of “Four!” Another window broke, glass twinkling and shining as the shards floated to the ground. The room was gaining a small contingent of elves, arguing about the score. Megamind tried to keep his eyes on the golf balls that were starting to litter the floor.

“This would be a lot easier if you'd take that stupid thing off,” she said. She reached up to the mask. He jerked his head out of reach, and backed away from her.

“That's what you think. It's there for your protection.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right! You're so full of it.” She stepped back into his embrace, and they took up the dance again.

“No, I mean it. If you only knew,” he said.

“You were late. You know how long I was sitting there?”

There was another fluttering of dark wings. He looked up. Crows were perched on several pillars around the room.

“I told you,” he said vaguely. “Traffic was murder.”

“That's no excuse,” she said, but he could hardly even look at her now, the crows were commanding his attention. Every time they turned around there was another one.

He nearly slipped on a golf ball. They passed by a poker table. Minion was seated there. Wayne Scott sat next to him, looking dapper in his specially tailored tux that easily accommodated his massive physique. A strange bald man with glasses sat across from them. He held five cheese slices in his hands. He nodded and smiled at Megamind amiably.

Minion seemed to be playing with raw bacon. He smacked one down on the table with a disquieting slap. Wayne was holding Twinkies.

Wayne smiled his mega-watt smile. “Pull up a chair, little buddy,” he said.

“Um, Minion?” Megamind said.

“Be with you in a minute, Sir,” Minion murmured, staring intently at the bacon. The ceiling was dark with crows, cawing and fluttering.

A hand fell on his shoulder. “Would you settle down for once in your life and get in line?” the warden said. A long orange line of prisoners stood by the buffet table. At the head of the line was a man wearing a black hood. Bandoliers criss-crossed his chest and an ax was stuck through his belt. Megamind was alone, the girl seemed to have melted into the crowd. He shook the warden's hand off and backed away.

He stepped out of the light of the dance floor and into the shadows. The music was cut off as if he'd entered a sound-proof room. His chest tightened. He was afraid to turn around, but he needed to see where he was going. He turned.

The crow in the corner was huge, and monstrous. Its beady eye glinted. A dead fox lay under the crow's foot. It had to be dead. Nothing could look like that and still be alive.

The fox gave a little whimper. The collar around its neck was so tight that a thin trickle of blood ran onto the floor. The crow smiled, and struck.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind sat up with a cry. Gasping he stared sightlessly into the dark and he didn't know where he was for a second. The basement. He was in the factory basement. His heart rate began to slow to something like a normal pace. There was a movement in the dark, and then Minion turned on a floor lamp.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Megamind drew in a shaky breath. “It's all right. I just had a dream.” In the treacherous manner of many dreams, the images were already fading, except for the lingering feelings of terror. The pleasant feelings he'd felt while dancing with the girl were almost gone. He couldn't even remember what she looked like now, to his chagrin. It might have been nice to retain that particular memory, but all he could recall was blue eyes and brown, braided hair.

Well, it didn't matter. It was just a dream.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After closing time, they paid a visit to one of the big stores. Megamind was scanning the magazine rack, looking for Popular Mechanics, when a different publication caught his eye. The woman staring out at him from Cosmopolitan looked as if she were caught in a storm. Her hair was blown back by a mighty wind. Her stance suggested she was prepared to either embrace a lover or punch someone out, it was difficult to say. Either possibility seemed likely. He was a bit hazy on popular culture, but he was pretty sure it was a magazine for ladies. Did women like looking at other women? Perhaps they all liked to see how they were supposed to look. Judging by the covers of the other magazines, they also liked looking at artistically arranged food and unbearably cute children.

He read the article titles on the cover. “Hottest Fashions.” “Is He Cheating? Here's the Signs.” “76 Ways to Please Your Man.” That seemed like a lot. What kinds of ways? At the prison, one sure way for a woman to please a man was just to show up, but there were a couple of other things the men liked to talk about too. Did women really know an additional seventy-three other ways?

He picked up the magazine and thumbed through it until he found the article. The author had chosen to start with the ears.

Megamind's own ears were starting to heat up. As he read, his hand idly traveled almost of its own volition up his neck. His fingertips lightly stroked the side of his neck, producing a tingling sensation. He touched his ear, and tried to imagine that it was a woman's hand that was---

Minion said, “Oh, there you are, Sir, I was---”

Megamind slammed the magazine back onto the rack, dislodging a dozen others. There was a cascade of print. He snatched frantically at the slippery pages, then gave up and let them fall.

“Just....just heading for electronics,” he croaked. He stepped over the scattered magazines and quickly headed for the safety of a distant aisle.

He was sitting on the floor, examining a pile of CDs, when he heard Minion's creaking footsteps behind him. Megamind's shoulders tensed. The way Minion was walking, it sounded like a lecture. Minion cleared his throat.

“Sir, there comes a time in every young man's life when he gets certain urges...”

“Minion, I distinctly remember having a similar conversation with the warden four years ago on the very subject you are so tactfully approaching,” Megamind said, wincing a little at the memory. “I do not need you to tell me about the hornets, because, and this may come as a shock to you, I haven't forgotten how babies are made.”

Minion was silent for a few moments. “I think you mean the birds and the bees, Sir.”

“Use whatever metaphor you like,” Megamind said. Minion shuffled his feet. Megamind looked around, irritated. “What, Minion?”

“Well, it's just that _we_ haven't talked about it. I just want you to know, if you ever want to talk about anything, like your feelings, I'm---”

“Feelings. What sorts of feelings!” Megamind jumped to his feet.

“Um, about, you know, girls...” Minion said, gulping.

“Which girls! The ones in the magazines, or the ones who run screaming as soon as they see me?” Megamind said, scowling.

“It might make you feel better, to talk about...about things,” Minion said. “I mean, we're outside now, there's opportunities to, you know, meet people, and you're genetically compatible, there's no reason why---”

“ _Meet_ people? When do we ever meet people, Minion? When we're mugging them? And don't talk to me about genetics!” Megamind snapped. “You may not have noticed, but when people see me on the street, they don't say 'Hm, there's an interesting genetic variation.' If you want to know what my _feelings_ are, then my _feelings_ are that no matter what I'm _feeling_ , I am not going to meet some nice girl.” Megamind flung his hands up. “What do you want me to do, kidnap somebody and ask if she'd like to see a movie sometime? I'd have to tie her up to keep her from running away.” Megamind turned his back and began rummaging through the CDs as if he had a personal grudge against plastic.

Minion stared sadly at the angry, hunched back. Sir's ears were maroon from anger or embarrassment. Probably both.

His boy was growing up. He no longer shared all his thoughts and feelings with Minion the way he used to. Minion was doing his best to prepare his ward for the rigors and challenges of life, but it wasn't easy. The talk show advice to let loved ones know that you cared about them seemed to work pretty well when the guests were all sitting around in the studio, but it was obvious that Sir wasn't quite in the right mood for a heart to heart chat.

He really should work up the nerve to call the show sometime, though it might be difficult phrasing the right question. Minion tried it out in his head. _Hello, I'm servant and guardian for a teenage alien boy who is struggling with his identity, and notions of his own attractiveness to...why, yes, he's humanoid, but we're on the lam, and don't really get to meet anyone suitable...er, no one's tracing this call, are they?_ He shook himself. Maybe he should just look for some kind of parenting manual.

Megamind dumped some CDs in the shopping cart.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's go get something to eat.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They set up an ambush behind the Great Wall Restaurant. Megamind could not get over his agitation and was still fuming.

_What's he trying to do, marry me off?_ he thought. _Can't he leave it alone? No woman is going to accept the giant head._

_The inescapable blueness_ _,_ his thoughts charged on, gathering steam. He couldn't imagine meeting girls, or getting to know anyone under normal circumstances. There were no normal circumstances. His circumstances were about as un-normal as you could get. The un-normalness rolled outward and onward, filling the world, infinite and unchanging. Sitting around in a coffee shop and chatting with a girl was as likely as jumping into the air and flying to the moon. He couldn't imagine a woman willingly coming to the hideout, other than a uniformed one.

A delivery man came out of the back door. Megamind slipped out from behind the dumpster and grabbed the car door before the man could slam it shut. He pointed the gun at him.

“Hand over the bags,” he ordered the frightened man. Minion took them.

_Probably be on the run for the rest of my life,_ Megamind thought, determined to drain the bitter cup.

He hurried out of the alley. Minion crashed into a garbage can. Megamind looked back in irritation at the noise as he rounded the corner.

“Hurry up, Minion! Can't you---”

WHAM! He cannoned into somebody standing on the sidewalk and their heads collided with a bone-jarring crack. Megamind was knocked over onto his back from the impact.

“Ow,” he said, staring at the sky. There was a small shriek from the restaurant's doorway. He levered himself up to a sitting position, holding his aching head. A teenage girl was sitting on the sidewalk, hand to her forehead, squinting at him. The way her mouth fell open was almost comical. She looked at the older woman standing in the doorway, who had her hands clasped to her mouth. The girl's long brown braid swayed. The pool of light from the windows illuminated her blue eyes. Megamind stared. Deja vu pinned him to the spot.

... _her long brown hair was tied back in a braid...a faint dusting of freckles...Her blue eyes...He turned around with her, feet falling into the steps of the dance..._

Then the girl gasped and her eyes widened in terror as Minion loomed over them, as he was so good at doing. Reality crashed back with an almost audible 'thwump.'

“Come on! Get up,” Minion said, grabbing him under the arm. He lifted Megamind to his feet. Megamind glanced back at the girl's upturned face as Minion pulled him down the icy sidewalk, and then they were gone, fled into the night.

“Are you all right, Roxanne?” Mrs. Ritchi asked as she went to her daughter.

“Yeah, I'm okay. We knocked heads. He ran into me,” she added, in case her mother had missed the encounter. She was still a little dazed.

“Incredible!” Their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas were bending over her, their faces creased with concern. They'd been chatting and saying good night to Mrs. Ritchi in the lobby when Roxanne was bowled over by what, at first glance, appeared to be a scarecrow. “Are you okay, honey?” The restaurant's cashier crouched down next to Roxanne and placed her hand on her shoulder. “You all right? I need to call an ambulance?”

Roxanne was feeling suffocated by all the hovering. She staggered to her feet, nearly cracking heads with her mother. “I'm all _right._ Geez.”

“Let's get her back inside,” Mrs. Douglas said.

“I'm not hurt,” Roxanne said, trying not to yell. Nobody was listening. Roxanne sighed and allowed herself to be fussed back into the restaurant.

“You sit here,” said the cashier. Someone plunked a glass of water onto the table. Roxanne picked it up, and held the cold glass to her forehead. “We called the police,” the cashier added, her lips pressed in a thin line.

“They took two delivery orders!” the manager was saying into the phone. “How am I supposed to keep this place going, huh? They've robbed us three times now! What do I pay taxes for, huh?” A small crowd was excitedly recounting the event, even though only a few people had actually seen anything. It didn't look like the restaurant was doing so badly. If anything, it looked more crowded than Roxanne had seen it for a while.

Roxanne's head throbbed. There would probably be a bruise. _Wait'll I tell Cheryl,_ she thought. _She'll never believe it._

“Can't we just go, Mom? They're gone anyway.”

“Well, I suppose we'll have to talk to the police,” Mrs. Ritchi said uncertainly. “We're witnesses.”

All the noise was giving Roxanne a headache. She put the glass down, closed her eyes and leaned her head on her hands. She hadn't seen the gun they said he always carried. He didn't look dangerous. He looked grubby. The news anchors on TV were always so grim when delivering the news of the alien boy's latest escapade, as if he were a serial killer. Of course, that robot-fish was a shock. Usually they just showed photos of Megamind, hamming it up for the camera. Minion was generally in the back, if at all, as a hulking shadow. In person he was definitely a revelation in hugeness.

Roxanne and her pals thought the whole thing was overblown, especially when they were all sitting around making fun of the situation. What did he ever do except steal everything in sight? It seemed a little less hilarious now.

In spite of the large cranium, his features actually looked pretty normal. Pretty good looking, even.

“Did you see his eyes, Mom?”

“What?” Mrs. Ritchi said, looking towards the door as if wishing they could sneak out. “Whose eyes?”

“The---” Roxanne hesitated. It didn't seem right to just call him 'the alien,' like he was some sort of specimen. “Megamind's eyes. Did you see how green they were? They almost glowed.”

Mrs. Ritchi gave Roxanne an incredulous look. Roxanne threw her hands up in exasperation.

“What, Mom!?”

“Don't take this the wrong way, dear,” said Mrs. Ritchi. “But maybe we should have your head examined.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind was unusually quiet on the ride back to the hideout. Minion wondered if he was still grumpy about their conversation in the store earlier, or maybe it was just that his head hurt. Minion thought they had some ice in the freezer. Sir was going to need it. Minion cleared his throat.

“I think there's some garlic chicken in one of the bags, Sir,” he said. Food was generally a safe topic. Minion was sure he could smell some shrimp, too. He was looking forward to that. Minion didn't eat much, and was generally quite happy with his fish flakes, but some good meat he could sink his teeth into once in a while was welcome. It disturbed people sometimes when they found out that Minion liked to eat fish. He didn't really see why.

Megamind was still staring out the window. He gingerly felt the side of his head, which had borne the brunt of the impact. He seemed more distracted than angry.

“Um. Minion,” he said haltingly.

Then there was silence. Minion waited.

“Yes, Sir?” he prompted, turning onto the exit ramp.

Megamind opened his mouth, then shut it again. Finally he turned to Minion with an anxious frown.

“Am I...my species I mean...is my species psychic? The Calli, I mean?”

Minion swiveled in astonishment, then turned to make sure their vehicle wasn't heading toward anything solid.

“Psychic,” he muttered. A little louder he said, “You mean, like, ESP, making stuff float in the air, predicting the future, things like that?”

“Well, yes, something like that,” Megamind said. “Especially that last bit.”

“No-o-o,” Minion said carefully. “I don't think so.”

“It's just that...I remember mother and father touching their foreheads together a few times...” his voice trailed off.

“Oh. Well.” Minion shifted in his seat. “Physical touch is a good way of producing feelings of comfort, and the Calli have always, well, _had_ always been rather sensitive around the neck and head regions. Your parents were calming each other down, I think,” Minion said. “I think if you had any sort of...of mind powers, it would have been kinda obvious by now.”

“Oh.”

“Is there some reason you---”

“No!” Megamind said sharply. “No,” he said again, more quietly. “No reason. I just wondered.”

Minion glanced at Sir, who was staring out the window again. He was going to take a closer look at his head when they got home.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I know. What are the odds that in a city of millions, he just happens to run into the girl who will become the love of his life? One should use dreams cautiously in stories, but I always kind of liked the idea of Roxanne literally being the girl of his dreams. 
> 
> To borrow a phrase from the movie: Let's have fun with this, come on! And I will get back to you. ;)


	8. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features the warden, because I thought it was only fair to show his side of things. The song lyrics that Megamind sings (or shouts) come from "T.N.T." by AC/DC.

 

It had been a bad moment when the police asked for current photographs of the fugitives and Parker couldn't find any. It wasn't as if anyone would have trouble recognizing them, but photographs would lend credibility to the news that aliens were on the loose. 

After some rummaging in his desk he finally uncovered one, from about three or four years previously. It showed Megamind bent over a circuit board with a soldering wand, a look of eager intent on his face that was so different from his usual sneer. It wouldn't do, of course, the photo was a little too old and didn't really give a very good view of his features anyway. Minion wasn't even in the shot. Parker stared at it. He didn't remember who had taken the photo. He suddenly felt extremely tired and had to sit down. 

The room was quiet but John Parker could not trust himself to speak. His throat was too tight. One of the police officers shifted his weight, and there was a muffled cough.

Schmidt took over. “We don't have mug shots. I'll give you their descriptions. Will that do?”

Parker gave the prison's security chief a grateful look. Schmidt gave a little nod back and led the officers out of the room to call in a sketch artist.

Parker sighed and tossed the photograph onto the desk, next to the miniaturized coffee cup. He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. He had no idea how the boy had managed to shrink all the cups and plates in his office, but it's meaning was clear enough. Megamind might as well as have written “Screw you” on the wall.

It was amazing, he thought, how children could make you feel such anger and worry and grief, all at the same time.

* * *

 

Certainly there was no shortage of photographs now. It seemed like there was a new one featured on the news every other night. Catching the alien fugitives on camera was practically a new city-wide past time for a while, until people realized it brought a real chance of getting mugged, or blasted into cube form, after which there was a considerable cooling of enthusiasm.

All the photos did nothing to bring them any closer to capture. Despite their life-long institutionalization, Megamind and Minion were showing a remarkable ability to avoid the police. At first Parker hoped that the shock of being on their own in the confusing, sprawling city would bewilder them enough to lead to an early apprehension, but no such luck.

Though avoiding the police, Parker thought grimly, was probably not too difficult. He couldn't help but track their movements. He bought a city map, and marked down all confirmed sightings. He got rather excited when he saw the cluster of dots in the neighborhood of the public library.

Naturally, Megamind would be drawn there like a moth to a flame. There was no sign that anyone had been breaking into the library, but Parker managed to convince the police to set up a stakeout.

Out of curiosity, Parker drove casually by the library, just to see how the stakeout was being conducted. He drove home fuming.

Even _he_ spotted the unmarked car! And the black and white squad cars stood out like goddamn lighthouses. The boy probably saw them a mile away. Did they think Megamind would just walk up and surrender?

Not surprisingly, the police did not catch so much as a glimpse of the fugitives. Three different bookstores were robbed that week. It was always the same. The store employees would arrive in the morning to find the doors unlocked, the security system dead, and a chunk of their inventory gone. The university library was robbed, too. Twice.

He knew the police would not appreciate being told how to do their job, and he knew he had been overreaching his authority by insisting on that stakeout, but he called Detective Buford anyway, and, very tactfully, suggested that maybe the stakeout was just a bit too obvious. Later that day the police captain called Parker and told him to stop harassing his officers. Very tactfully, of course.

We will keep you informed of our progress on the case, he was told. We appreciate your concern for your wards, but we expect to have them in hand soon. Wayne Scott has agreed to scout out the library and surrounding regions every night, after he finishes his homework and gets permission from his parents. If anyone can catch them, he was told, then our Wayne can!

Parker thought the police department was beginning to depend far too much on young Wayne Scott. Super powers were no substitute for real police work.

* * *

 

They'd escaped from prison the very night before Joyce was released from the mental ward at the hospital. She had been hoping to re-establish some sort of relationship with them, to visit them again as she once had, before her depression made even the smallest tasks overwhelming.

Parker tried to shield his wife as much as possible, but there were some things that couldn't be hidden. He couldn't hide her from the news. She passively, relentlessly, watched every newscast, and he knew that she was keeping track of their movements, counting every break-in and mugging they were accused of. Whenever some new photo was aired, she'd just sigh. Sometimes she'd leave the room abruptly, go into the bedroom and close the door.

* * *

 

About four weeks after Megamind and Minion escaped, Joyce made a surprise request.

“You want to formally _adopt_ him?” John Parker said. He stared at his wife in amazement. So many problems sprang to mind that he hardly knew where to begin. 

Joyce was sitting on the bed. It was late, and Parker was getting ready for bed. Joyce anxiously twisted her hands together on her lap. “Minion too,” she said. “You always forget Minion.”

“I do not,” Parker said, stung. “But Minion isn't the problem, Joyce. You haven't seen him in nine years. He's not a sweet little boy anymore. You should hear the mouth he's got on him now. Boy doesn't respect anybody...”

“I'm not stupid,” she snapped. “It's not like I think adopting him will turn him into an angel, I want to do it because it's the right thing to do.”

Parker walked over to the window. He felt, irrationally, angry. He was the one who had brought up the issue of adoption, years ago. Joyce was the one who said she couldn't handle another child, and he'd had to agree. Even before the alien space pod landed in the prison yard and further complicated their lives she'd been showing very strong signs of being...overstressed.

He picked idly at the frost on the windowpane. The days were slowly getting longer, but it was the time of year when everyone was weary of the cold and the snow, and the darkness.

He struggled with himself for a while, then decided to focus on the most immediate issue.

“I think it's a little too late for adoption. And it's not like we can take them home with us, Joyce. They may not have had criminal records before, but they will now.”

“But they've been in prison all this time,” Joyce said. “Won't the courts take that into account?”

Parker ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I think they probably won't,” he said. “He's not exactly acting like a frightened runaway. That doesn't help. And Minion just goes along with everything.”

“But Blue deserves a chance, they can't just---”

“He doesn't answer to that name anymore!” Parker flared. He couldn't help himself. He should have been more frank with her about this whole situation, but he'd been trying to protect her, and the doctors were always saying how he mustn't upset her.

“How could you let him pick such a ridiculous name, John! 'Megamind.' It sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“Oh, you think he listens to me? I don't have any influence over him, he's impossible to control, he---”  
“Well, you know all about control, don't you?” she shot back.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he snapped. But Joyce turned away and shook her head. He stared at her silent profile for a moment, then he left the room before he could say something he'd regret.

He stomped down the stairs. Their daughter Melanie was doing some college coursework at the dining room table. Their youngest, Sam, was sprawled on the sofa watching TV. Parker frowned. Sam should be in bed, it was a school night, but he was sick and tired of always being the one ordering everyone around. Melanie looked up at his heavy footsteps.

“Everything all right, Dad?”

He had to get out of the house. “I'm going for a drive,” he muttered. She started to stand up, but he grabbed his overcoat out of the closet and went out to the garage. He was so angry he almost forgot to open the garage door before he backed the car up. Then he went.

He drove. So this was the thanks he got, for practically being a single parent all this time. Accused of being a control freak. She'd accused him of being over-controlling before, when he had to tell her why he'd kicked Daniel out. “Why do you have to be so strict?” she'd said, as if their eldest son's drug use were just some little quirk that happened to bug him. That was when she had been in that facility up north, two years ago. She wondered why he didn't give Dan another chance, and he explained that he'd already given Dan chances. Five rounds of rehab were plenty of chances.

He _could_ have had Dan arrested, for dealing drugs right out of their house. Hell, if the cops had raided the place, the whole family could have been taken to jail, because of the new draconian laws that made everyone in a house with drugs in it vulnerable to prosecution.

Instead of calling the police, he just told Dan to get out, and to never contact anyone in the family again. Danny didn't even try to deny it, he just grabbed the paper sack out of his father's hand, packed a duffel bag and left.

Parker warned Melanie and Sam to hang up if Dan ever called, which he still had the nerve to do occasionally, to ask for money. Parker suspected that Melanie sometimes sent her brother money, but he simply didn't have the strength to confront her about it.

And now Joyce was talking about adopting Megamind and Minion! God, how many criminals did one family need? At least Megamind wasn't a drug dealer, so far as Parker knew.

“Just a thief and a carjacker,” he said out loud, almost cheerfully. He smacked the steering wheel and shook his head. Talking to himself was not a good sign.

Still, Joyce could be right. Adoption, even at this late stage, probably was the right thing to do. Would Minion be his son, then, too? It was strange to think about, but he supposed so. The main problem would be convincing a court, or review board, or whoever it was that decided these things, that Minion was a person and not a pet...

What was he THINKING! Adoption wasn't going to solve anything. But it nagged at him. He imagined discussing it with them, once they were caught, of course. Megamind would probably laugh in his face.

Why couldn't Megamind understand? _Everything I've done, I've done to try to keep him safe._

And now Megamind was out. He made the national news, which worried Parker. The last thing he wanted was for those somber government men to come around again, asking serious questions.

_We were assured the alien would be adequately contained. Who, pray tell, is now on a major crime spree? It does not look like he is being adequately contained to_ _**us** _ _._

He'd done the best he could, for both him and Dan, and it wasn't good enough. Thinking of his eldest son made Parker angry all over again. All the effort he'd expended, trying to get Dan to give up the drug lifestyle he was so grimly determined to embrace. Dan had every opportunity to do something with his life, and squandered every chance.

Parker stopped the car at a curb that overlooked the wharf. He looked out over frozen, snow-covered Lake Michigan for a long time, as the car slowly cooled and he could see his breath fogging the air.

The main problem with storming out of the house in a huff, is that sooner or later you have to go back. Parker looked gloomily at the car's clock. It was a little after midnight. With luck, everyone would be asleep by the time he returned.

He should really fill the tank, though Knowing he was delaying, he started the car and began looking around for a gas station.

* * *

Ronnie's face brightened when he saw the familiar van pull up. All _right._ This physics homework was a bitch.

While Minion filled the tank, Megamind went into the station building. He leaped through the doors.

“Cuz I'm _T-N-T! I'm dyn-o-MITE!”_ he shouted, playing air guitar. “Good evening Ronnie! How's the lawyer biz?” He laughed.

Ronnie chuckled along, a bit nervously. Last week when he told Megamind and Minion that he was planning on going to law school they'd burst into laughter. Minion did back flips in his bowl, guffawing. Megamind had been in real danger of falling onto the floor.

“You'll---you'll have to review our case!” Minion said, still laughing.

“Well, Ronnie,” Megamind had gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, “we definitely could use more lawyers like you around!” Ronnie, perplexed, had giggled uncertainly. He didn't see what was so funny, but it was safest to go along with it.

Megamind graciously did his homework for him, declaring that he could have done it in his sleep, and left the same generous amount of cash as last time. Ronnie told himself it was okay, since he wouldn't really need to know any of this junk once he was a lawyer. At first Megamind had tried to explain a few things, something to do with 'quantum', but at Ronnie's dumbfounded look, he grew impatient, shoved Ronnie to the side, and did the work himself.

Megamind walked up to the counter with five packages of snack cakes and two bags of potato chips. “What do you have tonight?” He pulled out a small roll of twenties and tossed it at Ronnie.

“Physics,” Ronnie said, showing him the ten page homework packet.

Megamind raised an eyebrow. “I see you haven't even tried to work on anything. Just as well,” he said, shrugging. “Saves me the trouble of erasing everything, huh?” He chuckled again and jabbed Ronnie in the ribs with a pointy elbow. Ronnie grinned sheepishly. He rang up the prices for the food, and the gas. Minion had just finished filling the tank. Minion got in the van. Ronnie knew he would park it behind the station.

Whistling, Megamind laid his coat on the counter and read through the worksheets. He seemed to be taking a long time. Ronnie shifted a bit uneasily. Megamind usually didn't stick around for long. This homework was due tomorrow. Megamind had a distant look in his eye. He was obviously thinking of something else.

Minion came in the back door. He picked up one of the potato chip bags and walked over to the snack aisle. Ronnie wandered over.

“Put this on the tab, okay?” Minion said, showing him a box of granola bars. Ronnie nodded.

“Hey, how's it goin'?” Ronnie said. Minion was really okay, once you got past the teeth that seemed to follow you around the room, and he didn't scowl at Ronnie so much anymore. Minion smiled.

“Goin' pretty good,” Minion said. Idly he gave the rack of sunglasses a spin. “So, you got any brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah, two older brothers,” said Ronnie. Megamind was leafing through one of Ronnie's notebooks. Then he started writing in it.

“Uh...” said Ronnie, taking half a step toward the counter.

“They live in Metro City, too?” asked Minion.

“Uh, one does,” said Ronnie. He whirled back toward the counter at the sound of ripping paper. Megamind was muttering to himself. He balled up the paper and started scribbling on another one.

“What do they do?” Minion asked.

“One...one's an intern at Metro General, the other lives in New York, he does something on Wall Street, hey, are those my notes? 'Cause I really need---”

“He's just using some blank pages to jot down some ideas,” Minion said, opening the chip bag. “Probably. I wouldn't worry about it. So those are some pretty big footsteps to follow in, huh?” he said, raising his voice over the sound of more ripping paper.

“Uh, it's due...due tomorrow,” Ronnie said, as loudly as he dared. Megamind looked around as if surprised to find himself there. He frowned a little and Ronnie almost wished he hadn't said anything. “I'm sorry. But...please?” Ronnie said, gulping.

Megamind raised an eyebrow slightly and one corner of his mouth quirked up. With an exaggerated sigh he picked up the homework packet again and started on the first problem.

“What made you decide on law?” asked Minion.

“Well...lawyers make a lot of money,” said Ronnie. “My parents said it was a good field.”

“Hm,” said Minion. He held a handful of chips above his containment unit. He opened the dome, poked his head out, and neatly snapped them out of the metallic fingers. He crunched.

“Lots of ways to make money,” said Minion. He gave the sunglass rack another twirl. “And some things are more important than money.”

_Oh, brother,_ thought Ronnie. _I've heard that before._ “Oh, yeah?” Ronnie muttered, looking at the litter of wadded up papers on the counter. “Like what?”

“Well, freedom's nice,” said Minion, reaching into the bag again. He looked at Minion in surprise, then glanced at Megamind, bent intently over the work that Ronnie should be doing.

There was a brief flash of headlights as a car pulled into the gas station's driveway.

“Car, Sir!” Minion said sharply, fins flaring. He headed for the exit.

Megamind grabbed some of the uncrumpled papers he'd torn out of Ronnie's notebook, the snacks, and his coat and was at the back door before Minion could even reach it.

“You're on your own, Ronnie!” Megamind called, and then they were gone. To the accompanying, distant squeal of tires, Ronnie began clearing up the litter. He looked gloomily at the unfinished homework. Damn. Megamind had only done two pages.

* * *

 

Parker pulled in at the slightly obscenely named Kum 'n Go. He heard the sound of tires screeching behind the store and he huffed out a breath in annoyance. Too many nuts driving around these days, always making a racket. After filling the tank he went in to pay.

The young man behind the counter was picking up some rubbish. A couple of text books were off to the side.

“Still accept checks?” Parker asked. He had a couple of blank checks in his wallet. Parker filled it out while the kid rang it up. He recognized one of the books from a course that Melanie had taken last year.

“Going to university then?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the kid said.

Parker handed him the check. His automatic parental responses were activated now. He had to ask. “You pick a major yet?”

“Yeah, I'm pre-law.”

Now Parker was genuinely interested. “Really. Well, maybe we'll run into each other again sometime. Similar fields.”

The young man looked at him. “Oh, you a lawyer, sir?”

“No, I'm the warden at the prison,” Parker said. He frowned a little. Was it his imagination or did the kid go a little pale?

The young man grinned broadly. “Really!” he said shrilly. Parker thought the kid's voice was a little too loud.

“Why are you taking these science classes, if you're pre-law? If you don't mind me asking.”

The kid chuckled nervously. “They make you take all these pre-requisites. They're hard. But I got a...a tutor.”

Parker nodded slowly. “Well, that's good. Have a good night.”

He went back to his car.

He didn't waste too much time wondering why that kid had been so nervous. Some people did act a little strange sometimes, when they found out what his profession was, as if they were afraid he were trying to find out what they'd done wrong. Police officers often got reactions like that. But if that young man were going to be a lawyer, he'd better toughen up.

 


	9. Shadowboxing

“How would you like your own aquarium, Minion?” Megamind asked, paging through the sketchbook. There was a loud clatter as the broom hit the floor and Megamind looked up in surprise.

“You wouldn't put me in a _tank_ , would you, Sir?” Minion cried, face full of dismay. And it was a face that had a lot of room to be dismayed in.

Megamind chuckled. “I'm not going to trap you in it,” he said. “It would be a really big aquarium, for you to go into and out of whenever you liked. See? I've drawn up a few plans.”

Minion clumped over to the table and looked over his shoulder. Megamind excitedly flipped through the pages. “Here's the lock mechanism, just like a canal lock, that'll rise up to the height of your containment unit, so you can swim into it, and it'll lower you down. Unless you happen to _like_ jumping in and out of your robot suit, that's always an option.”

Minion's eyes widened at the elaborate drawings. The tank was the size of a small swimming pool. It was big enough to hold fifteen thousand gallons at least. Here and there were waving plants, and rocks, and castles on a pebbled floor. There were some rooms attached to the inner walls. On one end of the aquarium was the lock, on the other end was a filtration system. The beach ball was a nice touch.

“These are the buttons that you can operate yourself from the inside, with your nose or your fins, see, to control all the features of the lock, filters, lights, and temperature. You can decorate it any way you want, do you like the castles? We could even put some live fish in it if you ever felt like hunting down your own dinner!” Megamind laughed. Minion still hadn't said anything. Megamind glanced at him, feeling a touch uneasy. Had he overstepped some unspoken boundary? “Well, Minion, what do you--”

“It's beautiful!” Minion cried, grabbing Megamind in a bone-crushing hug. Megamind squawked.

“OH! Sorry, Sir!” Minion said, hurriedly dropping him. “My own tank!” he said, beaming at the drawings.

He had hated it whenever they stuck him in that rotten aquarium in the warden's office. It separated him from his beloved friend and master, and there was no more awful feeling than that, and yet...and yet...in the secret recesses of his heart, it was a little bit nice, just a little bit, to have room to swim back and forth, even in the rather smallish tank, to get out of the confines of the containment unit and move around under his own power, to stretch his fins, without the robot suit. Which was an excellent suit, no one could have provided him with a better means for getting around in this land-locked world. But this aquarium was going to be _sweet._

He was so touched that Megamind had been planning this great undertaking just for him that he almost hugged him again but he curbed his enthusiasm. He didn't want to break anything.

Megamind coughed and straightened his shirt, grinning. “Yes, well, it'll be a while before we can get it installed. I still have to figure out how to get running water for this place.”

While Minion, humming, went to heat up some leftovers for supper, Megamind ripped out the pages for the aquarium and tacked them to the overflowing bulletin board. Several clippings from magazines and newspapers, featuring himself as the subject, hung from strings in the ceiling and spun gently in the air currents.

The van was repainted black. They'd spent an enjoyable, if cold, few days on the main floor changing the spark plugs and brake pads, fixing the struts, and basically making it into a vehicle worth owning. Minion once muttered something about 'wasting time on a piece of junk,' but Megamind scolded him. His first genuinely owned mode of transportation was _special._ Anything he didn't have to hot wire was _his._ He had the keys for it, therefore he owned it. The manner in which it was obtained was just circumstances. And the rust hole on the driver's side was a little one. He really should get around to welding a metal plate over it, though.

He sighed. A welder was another item on his ever-growing list.

There were a few other projects that were coming along, and one or two that were complete and needed a workout. He wandered over to one of the workbenches and picked up the electro-whip. Megamind pressed the button and turned it on. Minion glanced over at the sound of the crackle.

“Tell me again how that thing is any better than a taser,” he said dryly.

Megamind snorted. He flicked the glowing strand through the air. It made a very satisfying whine. “It's a lot cooler, for one thing, and intimidating! This'll get people hopping!”

“Just keep it away from me is all I ask,” Minion muttered. Megamind was too busy attacking the mannequin to pay attention.

\- - - - - - - - -

Later, Megamind sat with his head propped on his hand, watching critically as Minion handled the knitting needles.

“So....what is that again?” he asked, grinning.

“Well, it's supposed to be a hat,” Minion said, holding his handiwork up to the light. Megamind's smirk faded. He was going to have to deflect another attempt to bundle him. So far he had successfully fended off the scarves, the mittens, and the ear muffs. While Minion's fashion sense was really quite good, he was being extremely single-minded in his pursuit to keep Sir warm, and fashion did not figure into Minion's calculations. Megamind had to concede, though, that sometimes scarves came in handy when they needed to hide their identities.

He watched Minion for another few moments, frowning. He could hear a faint creaking coming from the robotic hands, and they didn't look as nimble as they ought to. He walked over, grabbed Minion's hand, and looked closely at the fingers. Corrosion was visible in the joints.

“These will have to be cleaned out,” he said. He found a toothbrush and a metal scouring pad.

“Well, can't I finish the hat first?” Minion protested.

Megamind trapped one metal arm under his armpit and began scrubbing.

“No,” he said curtly. “This junk has got to go. You'll have much better range of movement.”

Half an hour later he was still scrubbing. He scowled and moved the metal fingers one by one. Minion twirled idly in his bowl atop the suit and hummed a little. “Is it going to be much longer, Sir?” he asked.

“How old is this thing anyway?” Megamind muttered to himself. The suit itself was not very old, but the metal it was made from was getting rusty. He should have made a new suit for Minion a long time ago.

“A new robotic body is just the thing, Minion,” he said. “And I know a place that'll have some of the stuff we'll need for it.” There was a great deal he could do for himself, but some computer circuitry was easier to steal than produce. He'd been wanting to see what that new electronics company would have for him anyway. This was the perfect occasion to pay them a visit.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it, Minion?”

“You've been awake for over thirty-two hours, Sir,” Minion said, a little reproachfully.

“I didn't ask that, I asked what time it was,” Megamind said haughtily. He felt smug. He could stay up as late as he wanted now. There was no one to shout “Lights out!” and make him go to bed, though Minion tried, of course.

“Almost nine, I guess,” Minion said. “P.M.” he added.

“I'm going to sleep,” Megamind announced, and threw himself down on the cot. Minion went to his corner to power down.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Stan the delivery man pulled in to the back of the Polar North Warehouse. It was after ten o'clock already, he noticed with annoyance. The boss was getting after them lately to cut down on the overtime, but sometimes you had to put in the extra hours to get the deliveries finished. He'd just come all the way back from the Southdale Mall, after unloading four freezers. If Hugo got on his case again, he was seriously thinking about quitting.

He went to the back of the delivery truck to remove the straps and pallets. He began to pull out the pallet that was closest to the door when a noise from deep within the truck made him jump. Someone was snoring back there!

Stan climbed in and stared at the man for a minute. He edged forward, and made a face. The guy reeked of alcohol. Where did he come from? Stan had left the truck wide open for, oh, maybe twenty minutes or so, while he chatted with the clerks about how sucky the job market was. He felt no embarrassment over the fact that he could have gotten back to the warehouse well before ten if he hadn't been gabbing. Complaining was a job perk that was practically a right.

But now this drunk had wandered right into the truck and passed out! There was a bar and grill next to the department store. Is that where he'd wandered in from? Stan roughly shook the guy's shoulder. Groaning, he rolled over and blinked at Stan.

“You can't sleep here, man,” Stan said.

The drunk groaned again. “'Kay,” he murmured.

Stan shook his head in irritation. This guy _must_ have come from that bar and grill, which meant that he must have parked there, too. Stan wasn't about to drive all the way back to Southdale just to drop this guy off at his car. Maybe he could call him a cab.

“Hey, you want to wait inside?” Stan asked.“I'll call you a cab. I gotta clock out.”

“'Kay,” the man murmured again, but made no move to get up. Stan hesitated, then unloaded the pallets. He went inside, clocked out, and turned in the truck keys. When he came out again, the drunk was gone. He looked up and down the street for a minute, then gave up and went home. He couldn't help but feel a little concerned, but what could you do? He couldn't go wandering around the maze of streets looking for some stranger. That guy was on his own.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Logan staggered down the block. This street _looked_ sort of familiar. If he could just find Connie's place, he was sure he'd be able to explain everything, if, if, if she would just _listen_ for once, and that woman had to understand what a man _needs_ , it was biology, it was natural for a guy to look around a little...

Logan struggled on, wondering why none of the dang sidewalks had been shoveled.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Connie! Connie-e-e-e!”

Megamind swam up from the depths of sleep to the woeful sounds of Logan's call. He raised his head, then as the banging on the front door continued, he sprang up and dizzily bumped into the nearest floor lamp and turned it on. Minion was blowing bubbles in his sleep.

“Minion!” Megamind hissed, scrabbling around the debris on the table for the de-gun. Minion continued to drift, oblivious. Megamind walked over and smacked the metallic chest. The sharp noise finally woke Minion up.

“Wha...” he gurgled.

“Someone's outside!” Megamind whispered fiercely. “Are the doors locked?”

“Think so. What is it, police?” Minion said, blinking and shaking himself so his fins fluttered.

The pounding from upstairs was a steady beat as they hurried up the stairs to the factory's main floor.

Megamind's head felt full of cotton balls and it was hard to think. He'd barely dropped off to sleep, and now this fool was outside, bleating like some lost...lost fluffy thing.

“How long has he been out there?” Megamind demanded hoarsely. From the dim light that shone through the translucent window he could see his breath clouding the air. Already the tip of his nose felt cold, and his fingertips were tingling.

“I dunno, Sir, I was asleep,” Minion said. The door rattled as the man tried the handle. “He sounds drunk, Sir. Maybe he'll go away soon.”

Megamind paced around, tapping the de-gun against his thigh.

“Come on, Connie, lemme in!” the man brayed.

Megamind 'tch'-ed in annoyance. “What's he doing here? The idiot is clearly lost. There aren't any dwellings around here!” Minion shrugged.

Megamind ran back downstairs. When he came back up he had the electro-whip in his hand.

Minion blinked in alarm. “Sir, wait, I really think we should just wait for him to go away. If he sees...”

“I'm not waiting for him to pass out on the doorstep!” Megamind said grimly. He headed for the back door. “Don't worry, Minion, he won't see me.” He gave an evil grin, but Minion was, somehow, not reassured.

Megamind opened the back door just enough to slip outside. Even so, the hinges creaked and groaned alarmingly. The snow was packed down hard. There was no wind, but the frigid air penetrated his clothes almost immediately. He cursed himself for not thinking to even put on gloves. He stretched the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. The fabric was pulled tight, didn't help at all, and caused the rest of the shirt to ride up his armpits. Impatiently he yanked it off again. There was a narrow trail through the crusted snow of the alley that he and Minion had made when they last inspected the building, and he stepped carefully in the old footprints, trying to avoid the crunchy bits.

He needn't have worried about alerting his prey. The drunken fool was unaware of his approach. He flattened himself against the wall and peered around the corner. The man had left off knocking on the door and was stumbling up and down the sidewalk, slapping his hands against his arms in an effort to warm himself. Megamind wondered if the man were a ruse to draw them out, but who would try such a thing? The cops didn't operate like that, they were always so obvious and official with their bullhorns and flashing lights, as if to make absolutely, positively sure that the criminals had a sporting chance, and that everyone knew where they stood on the game board.

A ruse by some criminal gang? Somehow this level of cleverness---and it was sub-level, really---seemed beyond the mental abilities of the average Metrocity criminal. He and Minion had a few near-encounters with muggers, but once a mugger got close enough to realize that the intended targets were the fugitive aliens, he unfailingly turned into a non-mugger, casually becoming an innocent passer-by out for a walk, heading in the opposite direction. Neither Megamind nor Minion were fooled. Having been on the receiving end of hostility, they could spot the predatory approach, the aura of threatened violence, and would brace themselves for trouble. Usually all that was needed was for the potential attacker or attackers to get a good look at who they were stalking, to see Minion clenching his massive fists, and to see Megamind casually reaching into his pocket, for them to decide that they really should look for an easier mark.

Once a man leaped out of an alley at them with a gun. He hadn't known who he was attacking, and to find himself suddenly confronted by Minion's bulk and Megamind's incredibly handsome features, almost did a back flip in mid-air, so anxious was he to rectify his mistake. Minion took advantage of his surprise and ripped the gun out of his hand. The man took a second to count his fingers, then fled.

A few times they even saw men that they'd known from the prison, but they were not on friendly terms with any of _these_ particular ex-cons. After some mutual glares from a distance, they went their separate ways without speaking.

Drug dealers were more annoying, and pushier, and Megamind had to dehydrate a few of them to send a message to the rest that he was not interested in buying their wares.

If this drunken lout was part of some trick, it was awfully sloppy. He scanned the surrounding buildings and the street. All was quiet.

Megamind pressed the button on the electro-whip. He grimaced a little at the slight whine it made as it was activated, but when he glanced around the corner again, his prey had not seemed to notice it. He waited until the man's back was turned, then stepped quickly around the bend and struck. The tip of the electro-whip snaked through the air and caught the man squarely in the back.

“Waugh!” the drunk yelled. His body was completely surrounded by a brief burst of light, then he collapsed.

“YeeeeeEEES!” Megamind crowed, jumping into the air and pumping his fist. He pounded on the front door. “Open up, Minion! I have immobilized the trespasser.”

The front door squealed and complained as Minion came out. No door stayed closed if Minion wanted it open. Megamind crouched down by his victim and pulled out a wallet from the man's back pocket.

“Is he all right? He's all right, isn't he, Sir?” Minion asked. “The voltage is pretty high.”

“Of course he is, Minion. He's breathing. The electro-whip has only a fraction of an amp, to deliver the charge,” Megamind said. He wrinkled his nose. The man stank of cigarettes and beer. He rifled through the wallet until he found the driver's license.

“Logan Wannamaker. 1208 Peach Tree Street, Metrocity. Where do you suppose that is?”

Minion scratched his dome. “Suburb maybe?” he said.

“Maybe,” Megamind said. He stood up and looked up and down the street. “So where's his car?” The street was devoid of any motorized vehicles. They took a brief walk around the neighboring buildings, including the old fire station, but didn't find a car.

“How did he get here? He couldn't have fallen out of the sky!” Megamind cried, shoving his frozen hands under his arms. He and Minion both automatically looked up. Any mention of flying always brought thoughts of their super-powered nemesis, but it bordered on the ridiculous that this drunken sot could have any relation to Wayne Scott. He marched back over to the unconscious man and shot him with the de-gun. He picked up the little cube.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Oh, I don't know! I'll figure it out later. But I'm certainly not going to leave him out here until the spring thaw! He'll just re-hydrate, as drunk as ever, crying for this Connie person. I want to try to get some more sleep.”

“Y'know, these old buildings do sort of look like houses, Sir,” Minion said thoughtfully. “I remember reading once in the paper, this one guy, this drunk, he actually broke into some stranger's house and got into bed with the guy's wife and passed out!” Minion laughed. “He was so drunk he didn't even know where he was! I think he got shot in the leg.”

“The only proper fate for trespassers,” Megamind said haughtily.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Two nights later they were all set for a raid on Tanaka Industries.

“Why do you have to bring all this stuff, Sir?” Minion complained. Megamind was trying to figure out where to put the de-gun. All his pockets were full. The shoulder holster he'd hoped to use put the gun at the perfect angle to jab him in the armpit with every other step so he threw it out. Minion was going to be carrying four empty suitcases, though they would not be empty once they came back to the hideout. Megamind didn't want to dehydrate anything they might find at the robotics lab, which would then need to be _re-_ hydrated later. It would be impossible to judge exactly how much water to add. He might end up with a lot of sensitive equipment, sitting in damp puddles.

Impatiently Megamind adjusted the tool belt. It was already heavy with the key-o-matic and lock picks. He tried shoving the gun through the belt but found that he couldn't even sit down. The pockets of the parka were stuffed with the smoke bombs, the grappling hook gun, and the electro-whip. And a few snacks. And two sets of small screwdrivers. And a small notebook and some pens in case he got any ideas. It was a twenty-five minute drive, anything could happen.

“We got backpacks,” Minion pointed out.

Megamind cast a dubious eye over to the packs in question. They were camping backpacks, each one nearly as tall as he was. Minion had casually schlepped them all over town during their wandering period. On Minion they looked like knapsacks. Megamind had a feeling that, should he don one of them, he'd look like an overloaded Sherpa.

“I'll keep that in mind, Minion, the next time I decide to conquer Mr. Everest. You can carry the gun,” Megamind said. Minion looked at the four suitcases piled on his arms, but Megamind opened the side panel in Minion's robotic suit. The de-gun just fit. He sealed the panel. The hidden panel had been quite helpful during their prison days, until one guard, a bit brighter than the others, had the realization that there were a lot of places on a robot body that could hide things. After that Minion's suit was regularly searched for contraband.

“There! In easy reach, though I doubt we'll need it,” Megamind said. “I want to see what effect my electro-whip has on those dim-witted security guards!”

“What about the trespasser?” Minion asked. The cube was still sitting on the fridge.

“Hmph,” Megamind grunted. He pocketed it. “Oh, we'll just drop him off at the emergency room. It's on the way.”

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tanaka Industries had a complex of buildings on the north side of town, its own compound, on a new road. There was room for other companies to build on, but for the time being, Tanaka Industries was alone, surrounded by open areas of white fields, with a few stands of trees that would probably be torn down as soon as other businesses moved in and began building.

They parked the black van behind some convenient trees and climbed over the chain-link fence. It was a big place. There was even a park with a walking path. The company wanted its employees to be fit and happy. It took a minute to reach the main building. Megamind was beginning to wish they had cut through the fence and driven straight up.

Megamind and Minion rounded the last corner and stopped short.

Three men were grouped around the back door.

They were not security guards. They were wearing ski masks.

One was sitting with a laptop on a little stand. Wires led from the computer to the door. One man was wearing a dark blue outfit with white racing stripes on the sides. The third man was all in black, with a face mask that showed only his eyes, like a ninja. He uncrossed his arms in a decidedly non-casual way.

“Oh. This is...awkward...” Megamind said, taking a step back.

“Freezer Burn! Get them!” the ninja barked.

The guy in blue and white lifted his arms. Beams of white shot from his hands. Minion dropped the suitcases and shoved Megamind to the side and out of the way of the beams. Even so, Megamind felt the force of the freezing rays, like frostbite on his bare face. Minion was hit in the chest. Ice encased his torso, and the side panel.

Minion grunted and staggered back. From deep within the robotic core there was a high pitched whine as the temp regulators kicked into overdrive.

“Haugh!” Minion coughed, then he snarled and charged. Shards of ice broke and fell from his massive arms and shoulders in his own private avalanche, which is how he descended on Freezer Burn.

Megamind stared in surprise. He'd known his design was good, but Minion was showing some unexpected resilience.

The man in black was coming. Megamind backpedaled, digging in his pocket for the electro-whip.

Freezer Burn yelled as Minion grabbed him. Ice rays shot wildly in all directions. Ice formed, broke, and fell around Minion. Frost crackled and spread over his containment unit, but he looked very determined to do some damage.

Ninja guy was forced to dodge the occasional ice beam, but he was closing in on Megamind fast. Megamind yanked the whip free, lit it up, and struck. The man dodged. Electricity snapped as it hit the ground where the man had been standing. The man rolled and leaped. Megamind whirled. The man was already beside him, knocking the electro-whip out of his hand. It clattered against a wall.

Megamind ducked the swing aimed at his face. Crouching low, he immediately struck at the man's groin. When you're the smallest guy in the yard, notions like 'keeping it above the belt' tend to be the first casualties. Unfortunately ninja guy seemed to have graduated from the same school of dirty fighting. He turned aside from Megamind's attack so he received no more than a glancing blow on his hip. Megamind barely twisted out of the way of the incoming kick. He ducked another blow, then faked throwing a punch, and dodged to the side. What did he have? Smoke bombs. If he could get behind---

The man's foot shot out, and hooked Megamind's ankle, tripping him up so he staggered. The next blow caught Megamind in the solar plexus and the wind was knocked out of him.

Bam! Wham! Two more hits to face and head sent him sprawling to the ground. The man in black yanked him to his feet and twisted his arm behind him, and Megamind felt the edge of a very sharp knife pressed to his throat. He couldn't see the knife but he sure could feel it It felt like the kind of knife that could cut you if you even looked at it. He was pinned against the bigger man's chest.

“Your buddy's name Minion?” the man said in a low voice over his head.

“Y...Yes,” Megamind gasped.

The man forced Megamind to turn so they were both facing the embattled Minion and Freezer Burn. Freezer Burn was screaming. Minion was shaking him like a rag doll.

“Hey, Minion!” ninja man bellowed.

Minion whirled in his bowl, and stopped in mid-snarl. Megamind would never forget the look of horror on his face, though he often tried.

“Let him go,” the man ordered. “Put your hands up.”

Minion dropped Freezer Burn and raised his arms. Freezer Burn sat groaning on the ground. After a moment he scooted a bit further away from Minion and slowly got to his feet.

“Brad, get over here,” the man said.

Computer guy had wedged himself into the doorway during the fight. He stepped out and came over quickly.

“Empty his pockets.”

Brad's shaky hands pulled everything out of Megamind's coat pockets. He took out the notebook. The screwdrivers. The smoke bombs. The snack packs. The grappling hook gun.

As item after item was produced the man snorted. “Where's the kitchen sink?” he said.

Brad sniggered. Even Freezer Burn, rubbing his head, forced out a chuckle. _Ah. A clever joke from the boss,_ Megamind thought sourly.

“Under his coat, too,” the man ordered. Brad unzipped the parka, unbuckled Megamind's tool belt and held it up.

“Put it down over there,” ninja man said.

Under the man's instructions, Brad awkwardly patted Megamind down, fumbled in Megamind's jean pockets and emptied them as well.

“Get that whip,” the man said. Brad dutifully picked it up from where it lay by the wall. He touched the button that turned it on. It gave a little whine and a spark, but it didn't activate. It was broken.

“Let me see that stapler thing,” said the man, nodding at the key-o-matic. Brad held it up and inspected it. “So what does it do?”

“I don't know, Shadow, I've never---”

“I wasn't asking you, I was talking to our little friend here,” Shadow said. Megamind shot a panicky look at Minion. He couldn't tell this guy about his _inventions_. It was his _stuff._ His eyes cut over to the panel that hid the de-gun. It was completely iced over. So close. So useless. The gun itself might even be frozen. Minion would never get to it in time.

Shadow was not happy with his hesitation. “You have three seconds to answer,” he said quietly. “One. Two.”

Oh crap. He was going to have to give in.

“It's a...a...” he managed.

The man cut his neck. Megamind shrieked and nearly jumped out of the man's grip, but Shadow tightened his hold.

Minion cried “NO!” and stepped forward.

Brad took one look at the blood and fell down in a dead faint.

“Don't move!” Shadow roared, nearly deafening him. “Get back!” he shouted at Minion. “Or I'll cut him again!”

Minion was leaning forward, looking like he might leap right out of the bowl. With effort, growling, Minion stepped back and raised his hands again.

Shadow said, “It wasn't your jugular, genius. If it was, you'd---”

“That wasn't three seconds!” Megamind blurted out. “You forget how to _count,_ you sadistic---” He clamped his lips shut, too late. Outrage had momentarily taken control of his mouth.

There was a brief, heavy silence.

“Do you _want_ to die?” Shadow said in a low voice.

 _Is that a rhetorical question?_ Megamind thought wildly. Blood was soaking into his collar.

“It's a key-o-matic, it opens locks and disables the security system,” Minion said loudly.

“Now we're getting somewhere,” Shadow said. “Was that so hard? Was that so difficult? Goddamit! Freezer Burn, get your ass over here and wake him up.”

Freezer Burn made a wide circle around Minion and hurried over to the recumbent Brad. He turned him over onto his back and roughly shook his shoulder. “Hey Hey, man, wake up.”

Brad groaned and sat up. He glanced at Megamind's bloody neck and hurriedly looked away again.

“Get over there. Sit down and put your head between your knees,” Shadow said disgustedly. “Useless. The both of you. I have to do everything. Useless.” Freezer Burn shuffled about a little and looked at the ground.

“Not my fault,” he mumbled. “How'm I supposed...” His voice trailed away under Shadow's withering glare.

Eyes averted, Brad scuttled back to the safety of the doorway. Shadow sighed. For a few moments he was lost in thought. Then he said, “All right. I'm in a forgiving mood. I can tell you're new at this, boy. I guess even little blue freaks have to go through an awkward teenage phase.”

Brad began a strained chuckle, but seemed unable to decide if laughter was expected at this point, and gave it up.

“I'll tell you what,” Shadow said. “I'm going to let you and your goon off the hook. Just get out of here and go home. Leave your things. I'm sure I'll find uses for them. I'll let you leave with your precious little lives, okay? Okay. Go home and put yourself to bed like a good boy. Minion, you go first. Keep your hands up, and get going. Now.”

Minion walked past them. Shadow turned to face him, turning Megamind with him at knife point. After Minion was well past, Shadow addressed his captive.

“When I let go, start walking and don't look back or I'll kill you.”

He let go of Megamind and he jerkily started forward.

“Hold on, wait a sec,” Shadow said, grabbing his collar. Megamind froze. Slowly, deliberately, Shadow wiped the knife blade clean on Megamind's sleeve.

“Okay. Now you can go,” Shadow said, and smacked him on the butt. Megamind could _hear_ the smirk on the man's face. He obeyed, operating on automatic. He and Minion left, leaving the field of battle to the winners.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After they rounded the corner and passed the first of the outbuildings, Minion burst out “Who does that guy think he is! Son of a bitch. I can't believe he took _everything_. Have to get you home.”

Home. God, yes, he just wanted to go back to the pri--- to the _hideout_. He held one shaky hand over the streaming cut. His head and cheek ached from the blows. His legs barely worked. All his muscles seemed to have been replaced with rubber bands. He moved forward in a sort of high-speed lurch under the burning power of sheer humiliation. The ease with which Shadow had taken him out was mortifying. He wanted to say something nonchalant, to show Minion it didn't matter, that he could just shrug it off, but he had no energy for it. He was still trying to re-learn how to breathe.

“We'll need some Bactine,” Minion muttered miserably. “Band-aids. Hope you don't need stitches. I can't believe he took everything. Don't you worry about it, Sir, you can replace all those things.”

Megamind gingerly removed his hand from his neck. The bleeding had stopped. There probably wouldn't even be a scar, but it stung and throbbed like hell. It would take a far worse wound than this to leave a mark. That was so close. If the knife had cut a centimeter more to the side...

He just wanted to go back to their hideout. He had no stomach for anything else tonight. Back to the hideout, then, where it was safe.

He slowed to a stop. It had started to snow again, tiny hard flakes that bit where they landed. He stared into the whirling snow. The night sky was black, as if it were a ceiling covered with crows. Megamind could almost see the fluttering of their wings....

Minion looked at him, worry creasing his forehead.

“What is it, Sir?”

They were on a winding sidewalk, lined with old-fashioned street lights. The van was around the next stand of trees. Safety beckoned. Megamind couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about the way Shadow insisted that he go straight home. It made him want to do absolutely anything _except_ go home.

He went over to the pool of light cast by one of the street lamps and pulled out his empty coat pockets, examining them closely. Nothing left in them except lint. Minion watched, puzzled. Megamind looked hard at the wrists of his coat sleeves, feeling every inch. He ripped off his coat and peered at the collar, where Shadow had grabbed him, and there he found it, a little gray square hidden under the collar's tag, clinging to the fabric like a tick.

A tracking device. He carefully peeled it off. Minion gasped. Megamind shot him a warning look and made a chopping motion with his hand to keep quiet.

He turned it over. A tiny red light, like a firefly's glow, was on the underside. Megamind couldn't tell if there was a microphone in there or not. He looked around. There was a garbage can about half a block away. Megamind found a paper cup that was more or less on top of the refuse and carefully placed the tracing device in it. His first overwhelming urge was to crush the thing, but destroying it might have sent some sort of signal. A slow burn of rage grew in his chest.

He touched the neck wound as they continued their walk to the van. The image of the fox from his nightmare came to mind, looking like roadkill, how it had whimpered, the blood trickling from its neck, but it was a frickin' _dream,_ it didn't mean _anything_ , he wasn't going to go scampering home because of some damn _dream_. He was seriously ticked off.

There was a girl in that dream, and not long afterwards he'd literally run into a girl who looked like her but so what? Lots of girls had brown hair and blue eyes. That was just coincidence.

When they got to the van, he asked, “The laundry bag in here, Minion?”

“Yeah, behind the seat.” Megamind got into the back and kicked off his boots. He stripped off his clothes. He didn't think Shadow could have slipped any more tracers on him, or that fumble-fingered Brad, but he was _not_ taking any chances. He was too agitated to conduct a thorough search for more tracking devices. He flung the clothes at Minion.

“Get rid of these. The coat, too. Oh, don't look at me like that! I'm sure you'll find me another one that's equally large and coomb-ersome.” The blood stain on the sleeve was a humiliating reminder that he would just as soon get rid of anyway. He rooted around in the laundry bag until he found some things that weren't too horrible and got dressed.

Minion smacked at the ice still clinging to his torso, cracking it and knocking it off. He popped open the panel in his side and carefully took out the de-gun. Megamind shoved his feet into the boots and hopped out of the van. He took the gun from Minion and inspected it. It was ice cold, but appeared to be intact. The BINKEY power source inside it gave off its usual glow.

“Get in,” he ordered. Megamind climbed behind the wheel, reeking slightly of old clothes. Minion got into the passenger side.

“Home, Sir?” Minion asked.

“Of course not,” Megamind snapped. “Let's find their vehicle. They probably parked around...”

“Sir! Let's just go! You found the tracer, let's go back!”

“I am not going to go traipsing back to the hideout with that guy looking for us, trying to track us down!” Megamind said.

“Sir,” said Minion. “Please. That guy is _dangerous.”_

“I can be dangerous, too, Minion,” Megamind said, baring his teeth. “He beat me up, stole _my_ inventions, he cut me, HE THINKS HE CAN GET AWAY WITH PUSHING ME AROUND, I AM GOING TO SHOW HIM THE ERROR OF HIS WAYS!”

Minion was trembling. “But what are you going to _do?!”_ he wailed.

Megamind smiled his old evil smile. “Don't worry, Minion, I merely wish to recover what is rightfully mine. I'm certainly not going to cut his throat! I can be merciful. I shall simply turn the situation back on him. He robbed me, so I shall rob him. Whatever it is that he's stealing from Tanaka Industries, that shall be mine as well. Then HE will have to live with the sting of humiliation!”

It didn't take long to find the SUV. They parked the van a good distance away, and waited for Shadow and his gang to come out.

 

 

 


	10. Megamind Strikes Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original draft of this story, the villain Shadow didn't even exist. I thought that young Metro Man, the cops, and the weather were going to be Megamind's primary concerns. And then one day Shadow showed up, smirking, and muscled his way in.
> 
> I would like to share a quote from Oscar Wilde:  
> "Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril."

The cube was discovered glowing innocently on the receiving nurse's desk in the emergency room. No one knew how or when it had gotten there. There was a great deal of speculation on what might be contained within it, but since all previously discovered cubes always proved to be dehydrated citizens, someone finally got up the nerve to add water. Logan Wannamaker re-materialized on the mat, sputtering and bewildered.

Logan was quite drunk, and had no idea how he had ended up as an infamous dehydrated cube, but was more than willing to explain to everyone that Connie had locked him out of the house.

Once it was clear, after much meandering discourse, that he was uninjured, the staff left him alone. Unfortunately, he showed little inclination to leave, even when an orderly offered to call him a cab, and even offered to pay for it.

He staggered around the waiting room, telling his story to anyone who was unlucky enough to be in his path, until both patients and staff heartily wished he would leave already.

Anne, one of the nurses, heard bits and pieces of his tale of woe as she came and went about her duties.

“...Polar North Warehouse, and, and, and I thought 'Hey! I use ta work there, man!' and I looked around in the truck, and bam! I wake up, and there I am, the ol' stomping grounds...”

He'd cornered one of the orderlies, a young man who hadn't quite mastered the art of disengaging himself from uncomfortable conversations.

“...so I says, 'Connie, you gotta _know_ , you _got_ to know, she didn't mean nothin'....”

“But you said you were at your old work place, why did you think you were on Connie's street?” the young orderly said wearily.

Logan appeared unable to follow his line of reasoning. “So I went by the old fire station, you know, they're always sayin' they're fixing these old places up, waste of tax money you ask me, anyone'll tell you.” He belched. “Nice picture on the wall. Nice horse painting.”

The orderly, Benny, looked around in some desperation, and Anne took pity on him. She walked over and said, “Why don't you sit down for a while Mr. Wannamaker. You look tired.”

After some urging, she got him to go sit in one of the waiting room chairs, and then she was called to the back room to help find their back up supply of bandages, but while she was searching, she began thinking to herself that there was only one way that Logan could have been dehydrated into a cube. He must have run into Megamind, insulted him, like maybe he'd thrown up on his shoes or something, and gotten shot with the de-gun.

Wasn't there a reward being offered for information leading to the capture of the alien?

Anne decided to engage Logan in conversation, as unpleasant as that might be, but when she went out to the waiting room again, he was nowhere in sight. They'd been trying to get rid of him all night, now when she actually wanted to talk to him, he was gone.

She scowled in frustration, and went to track down Benny.

“Benny, did that drunk guy take off?” she asked.

“Yeah, I got him to tell me his address, and put him in a cab. Why?”

She sighed and looked off into the distance. There was no way in hell that she was going to go to the guy's house to question him, for crying out loud. She thought about the things she'd overheard Logan say, about the Polar North warehouse, and a wall with a big horse mural on it. Would any of that be of any use to the cops? She wasn't sure if phoning them with such vague second-hand information would be much help. Would it be enough to get her the reward money, or at least a piece of it? She'd have to think about it for a while.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Give me that!” Megamind snapped, tearing the damp cloth out of Minion's hand. He peered into the rear view mirror and began cleaning the dried blood off his neck. “I can do it myself. I'm not an infant,” he muttered.

Minion stared glumly out the windshield. What a disaster! And it started out so well, too. What was going to be a simple robbery had turned into some kind of deadly vendetta. He had a nagging feeling that everything that had gone wrong tonight was somehow his fault. When those ice rays hit, nearly freezing the water in his bowl, it had _hurt_ , and the only thing on his mind was getting his hands on Freezer Burn and stopping the pain. He had no idea how much trouble Megamind was in until it was too late. 

He shuddered. It was his job to serve and protect, and Minion felt that he was not living up to expectations.

Minion tried again to get Megamind to see reason, or at least to do something less risky.

“We could ambush 'em right here,” Minion said. “Don't have to follow him home.”

Megamind examined his neck for any remaining traces of blood. The wound was dark red, scabbed over already, as neat and straight as a paper cut. He sat back in the seat and clasped his hands together in front of him, resting his forefingers against his chin. His knuckles were slightly purple from the cold. He'd thrown out the black gloves, along with his coat and all the clothes he'd been wearing, to make absolutely certain that Shadow had not planted any more tracking devices. Now he wore a slightly grungy sweatsuit that he'd dug out of the laundry bag.

“Poetic justice, Minion,” he murmured. “He was going to follow me back to our hideout. But _I_ will follow him to _his._ ” He returned to staring intently out the windshield. His cheek was swelling up and there was a bruise on the side of his head, compliments of Shadow. Minion had hinted broadly on the need to got some ice packs, hoping that they could leave the premises. Megamind had simply pressed some snow on the injuries for a while.

This was a side to Megamind that Minion hadn't seen before. Minion was used to tirades, and hysterics, and declarations of rev- _ahnge_ , but after the initial torrent of rage, Megamind had become deadly quiet. Minion wasn't sure how to handle this cold, evil silence. Megamind sat still, hardly even fidgeting. He didn't drum his hands on the wheel, or hum, or pick his teeth, or clean gunk out of the corners of his eyes, or any of the other hundred and one things he tended to do while being forced to wait. Once in a while he rubbed his shoulder and arm, the arm that Shadow had so cruelly twisted behind his back.

“Why don't you...let me take the wheel, Sir?” Minion asked casually.  _I can just...sort of...try to follow, then, just sort of lose them...totally by accident, could happen to anyone..._

Megamind stared at Minion a little too long. Minion gulped and tried not to squirm.

“No. Minion, I think I will drive,” said Megamind firmly, and returned his gaze to the SUV.

“He'll spot us,” Minion said gloomily. “You've never tried to follow anyone by car before.”

Megamind gave him a grim smile. “I plan on learning quickly, Minion.”

Some people appeared from around the corner, walking toward the SUV, and Megamind gripped the wheel.

The computer geek Brad was carrying his laptop. Freezer Burn was carrying a case. Shadow wasn't carrying anything. They got into the SUV and pulled out onto the street.

“Here we go,” said Megamind.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When they got back to his apartment building, Shadow got out of the SUV and exhaled. He ran a hand through his blond hair and took the pay packet out of his inner pocket.

“Don't spend it all in one place,” he said. Freezer Burn chuckled. Shadow snatched the envelope out of his reach and glared coldly at his lackey. “Seriously. Keep a low profile for a few days. Think you can handle _that_?”

Freezer Burn's lips tightened. He was still aching from the pummeling he'd gotten from Minion. His pride had taken a pounding, too. His freeze rays had never failed so disastrously before.

“Yeah,” he said sullenly.

“Glad to hear you can handle  _something_ anyway,” Shadow said. He gave him the promised payment, and Freezer Burn went to his battered pickup truck. Shadow and Brad went into the building.

They took the elevator up. Shadow unlocked his apartment door and they both went inside.

“Clear the table. Let's see what we got,” he ordered. Brad carefully scooped up the mess of papers, take-out containers, and other debris that covered the table and put them on the cabinet. Shadow set the Tanaka case on the table and then shook out the other bag. He lined up all of Megamind's inventions, the electro-whip, the little cases that looked like they might be smoke bombs, the thing that Minion had claimed could open any lock, and the other things. Shadow hadn't tried the key-o-matic, of course, since Minion might have been lying. He would have to examine and test every one of these devices to find out their proper uses.

He picked up Megamind's pocket notebook and flipped through some of the pages. There were several sketches of technical diagrams. And one page with several sketches of Megamind himself, each face sporting a different mustache or beard. Shadow scoffed and tossed the notebook down. “You go through this book soon, see if there's anything useful in it,” he said. Brad nodded.

Brad reached for the gun with the over-sized barrel that had a double-pronged hook sticking out of it, eyes eager. Shadow smacked his hand away and glared at him.

“Ow,” Brad mumbled, rubbing his hand.

“Get that tracking program started,” Shadow snapped. While Brad set up his computer in the living room, Shadow turned his head, stretching his neck. He could feel the tension start to dissipate. He could finally relax. Now he could have a drink or two, and take care of his frayed nerves.

He looked at the table again. He had a feeling that he was missing something. He counted the gadgets again, but everything was there. He shook his head and went to the kitchen.

Shadow had wanted to wait until Bates was back in town before pulling the heist, but the buyer was getting so skittish that he didn't dare wait any longer. It should have been a fairly straightforward break-in, and it was until Megamind and Minion showed up.

Shadow was shocked that Freezer Burn's powers had been useless against that fish-cyborg, or whatever the hell it was. He knew he had to take control fast.

The little freak was quick; he was lucky he'd been able to trip him. Good thing he got a hold of him, too, because Shadow didn't have any other way of stopping Minion. He'd left his guns behind, thinking that Freezer Burn would be enough to handle any trouble with the security guards.

Admittedly, he'd been a little careless with the knife. He hadn't meant to actually cut him, but the night was getting old and they were behind schedule. Then that whole mess with Brad fainting! Shadow shook his head in annoyance. Well, he'd recruited Brad for his technological capabilities, not his fighting skills. It was getting late, they were wasting time, and Shadow couldn't spend the rest of the night babysitting everybody.

He was very pleased to have remembered the tracking devices. Actually, this had worked out for the best. Now he could take his time and plan how to capture the fugitives. Megamind would go crawling back to his hidey-hole and lick his wounds, and jump at the shadows for a few days, but in a week or two he would have let his guard down. Shadow would plan an ambush. He'd like to see what other goodies the little freak had come up with. Megamind had an impressive store of weapons and gadgets stuffed in his pockets. Imagine what else he might have tucked away in his den.

And he could consider his options. Turning him in for the reward was one possibility, but Shadow would have to find someone reliable to handle it for him. Or perhaps he could recruit him, make him an offer he couldn't refuse. Megamind's inventiveness would serve him well.

Or Shadow could sell him outright. There were companies run by people with very casual ethical standards who would _love_ to get such a unique specimen into their labs.

Yes, he could think of plenty of uses for Megamind. Controlling him was all a matter of finding the right leverage, and Shadow was an expert on controlling people, super-powered or not. Not that Megamind even had any powers, really. He might be clever with gadgets, but he wasn't much different from every other punk kid that Shadow had run across. Minion, now, Minion was a real problem. Much too protective, far too loyal. He would need to find a reliable way to control that fish or Minion would be more trouble than he was worth.

As he reached for the fridge handle, Shadow realized what had been bothering him.

The de-gun. Megamind didn't have the de-gun on him, and from the reports, Megamind _always_ had it with him. There was no way Brad could have pocketed it. For one thing, Brad never would have tried anything as stupid as trying to hide something like that from Shadow, and for another, he couldn't pull a sleight-of-hand to save his life. Freezer Burn had been nowhere near them when Brad emptied Megamind's pockets, so he couldn't have taken it, either.

This was a troubling loose end, and Shadow didn't like loose ends.

“You got it running?” he said loudly.

“Uh, yeah,” Brad answered from the living room.

“Make sure to mark whenever they spend five minutes or more in any one place,” he ordered. “They could have more than one hideout.”

“Yeah, okay, but, something weird is going on,” Brad said. “It looks like he hasn't moved.”

Shadow frowned. He took a beer out of the fridge. “Hasn't moved? You sure you---” He shut the door of the fridge.

Minion was standing behind the door.

Shadow was almost too surprised to move. Almost.

Shadow flung the beer bottle at Minion's face. Minion flinched, then struck. Shadow dodged Minion's punch, hurtling himself across the room. He grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on, a pot, and flung it hard. Minion knocked it aside, and his other arm shot out like a viper and nearly snagged Shadow, but he twisted and got away. Then the other robotic fist caught him across the jaw and lifted him off his feet.

By the time the room stopped spinning, Minion had both Shadow's wrists trapped behind his back. Megamind stood before him, in a wrinkled black sweatsuit, pointing the de-gun at Shadow's face. The knife wound on his neck stood out like an extra little smile. There was a faint smell of old socks.

Megamind smiled. “Guns beat knives,” he said cheerfully.

Shadow's face twisted. “Little boy, you just made the biggest mistake of your life,” he said in a low and deadly voice.

Megamind chuckled. “Yes, well, believe me, I am just terrified. This isn't much of a lair, I must say. I mean, I would have expected an old airplane hangar, or a remodeled warehouse or something, complete with an evil training center, but an apartment?” Megamind gave the tiny kitchen an elaborate, wide-eyed look. There were some urgent scuffling sounds coming from the living room and he looked around sharply. Megamind rushed down the hall, de-gun at the ready. Minion followed, hauling Shadow along.

Megamind found Brad hiding under the desk.

“Oh, it's the computer geek!” Megamind laughed. “Come on out, now. Stand right there, hands behind your head, and don't make any sudden movements. Or any movements, really.” He casually waved the de-gun around. Brad complied, Adam's apple bobbing like a cork.

 _I really should keep some rope handy for times like this,_ Megamind thought. He waved his arm experimentally, and frowned a little as the baggy shirtsleeve flapped back and forth. He just _had_ to get a new wardrobe. He looked no better than some ragged street thug in this get-up. He walked over to the table where all of his precious inventions were laid out.

He picked up the whip, and shook his head over the hairline crack that ran down the length of the handle.

“I certainly hope you have been taking proper care of my inventions, or it will go hard with you,” he said out loud.

“Everything's...everything's there, you can have 'em back, you---” Brad said nervously.

“Shut up,” Shadow snarled.

Megamind chuckled. “Now, now, let's have some manners. I don't think there's any cause to go getting all worked up.”

“So how'd you get in the building without your precious little tools?” Shadow demanded.

“Oh, we just pressed all the buzzers until some...” Minion said brightly.

“Minion!” Megamind snapped. Minion shut his mouth. Megamind scowled for a second, then his mocking smile returned.

“Wouldn't you like to know!” he said, sneering. “I have a host of skills at my disposal of which you know nothing. My secrets are my own, you understand. No doubt you must have secrets of your own that you wish to keep to yourself.”

Shadow was very still.

Megamind walked slowly around the table, looking at the Tanaka case with interest. “And I am afraid I shall have to relieve you of your hard-won prize from Tanaka Industries,” he said, running his hand possessively over the case.

The cords of Shadow's neck stood out. “Don't even think about touching that case, you rotten little blue freak, you bet---aagk!” His face went white and he sucked in his breath as Minion increased the pressure.

Megamind stalked toward Shadow, smirking. “I _strongly_ suggest that the next sentence out of your mouth does not contain the words 'little', 'blue', or 'freak',” he said. “Minion might get _upset._ ”

“Damn right,” Minion muttered. He stopped twisting Shadow's arm just enough to stop the pain and the man regained a more normal color.

Megamind spun on his heel and strolled over to the desk. He raised a mocking eyebrow in Shadow's direction. “Now, if I had a secret identity, and I didn't want to risk anybody finding out, I would probably not bring my ID or my wallet along on an important mission, would I? It might get dropped.”

A muscle jumped in Shadow's jaw.

“So where would I leave it? In my desk?” Megamind tugged on a couple of drawers. They were sticky and didn't open right away. Megamind stuck the de-gun in his waistband to free his hands and wrenched the drawers open with a grunt. “I think I would. Well, what do you know, here it is!” He spun around, grinning evilly, flourishing a wallet.

And it all went pear-shaped.

Shadow twisted. His feet climbed the end table and somehow he flipped himself over into a somersault, launching himself right out of Minion's grip. The sudden, violent movement threw Minion off balance and his arms pinwheeled wildly. Megamind gasped, dropped the wallet, and fumbled at his waist.

Shadow leaped.

Megamind barely drew it in time. He pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light.

The force of Shadow's trajectory had been so strong that the cube continued on its course and bounced off Megamind's head. It landed on the carpet.

Megamind held the de-gun up, panting, eyes wide. Minion's mouth was hanging open.

Brad was doubled over, cringing. At the lack of screams, he carefully opened one eye and, once he'd established who the victor was, slowly straightened up again, keeping his hands behind his head.

Megamind swallowed hard and glared at the gaping Minion.

“Your hands get sweaty?” he said acidly.

“I don't know what happened!” Minion cried. “Nobody ever broke free before!”

Megamind exhaled and lowered the gun. “Well. Well. Just...don't let it happen again.” He bent over to pick up the wallet.

Minion scowled at Brad. “Hope _you_ don't get any ideas,” he said.

“Not me,” Brad said hurriedly. “Look....guys...the stuff's all right over there. Take it, just take it. And...and just go?”

Megamind glared at him. “I will decide when I am ready to leave, if you don't mind,” he said imperiously. He glared at the blue cube glowing on the floor. His lip curled and he kicked it across the carpeting. It rolled all the way out to the hallway before coming to a stop. “So, what's the big secret? No doubt he's an upstanding, well-known businessman in the community. Undoubtedly some public persona in which he would not want it known that he goes around at night dressed like a ninja. Maybe he's the mayor's nephew!”

Minion chuckled, “Yeah, wouldn't that beat all!”

Megamind pulled out the driver's license. “Edward Corbin. Not a bad photo.”

He looked at the rest of the contents of the wallet. There was another leather cardholder. He flipped it open.

Minion leaned toward the glassy-eyed Brad. “I don't think you have anything to worry about,” Minion murmured. Brad stared at him blankly. Minion gave him a reassuring, pointy-toothed grin. “You were just following orders. I know how it goes,” Minion said, winking. “And Sir's not that vindictive, really, he'll be finished in a bit. Then I'm sure you can go,” he said, wanting to reassure Brad that the inconvenience of the hostage situation would be over momentarily, with a minimum of any further discomfort.

Megamind stared at the badge...and there was no question about it, it was _definitely_ a badge...for a while. He turned the cardholder over a couple of times and read the ID card again. No, the words were still there. They read:

Edward Corbin. Field Agent.Department of Paranormal Investigations. United States Government.

Megamind swayed, and groped for the edge of the desk. He looked around the once-ordinary apartment. The shadows in the corners were darker, and they could be hiding _anything._

He swallowed. “Um, Minion,” he croaked, and coughed a bit to clear his throat, and held up the badge for Minion to see.

Minion stared. He snatched the cardholder from Megamind's nerveless fingers. “A forgery,” he said after a moment. “It's a fake, right?” he said hopefully.

“Well, no, because the little holographic picture in the corner, this symbol here, see?” said Megamind, voice beginning to ratchet up an octave. “Remember Cal? He said...he said...he said that the new holographic images they started putting on everything are impossible for counterfeiting hacks to reproduce...Counterfeiters can't...Oh my God, he's a _**FED,**_ ” Megamind whispered hoarsely.

Minion turned on the cringing Brad and grabbed a handful of his shirt. “Hey. Hey, this is a fake, right?” Minion growled.

“I can't say. I can't say!” Brad moaned. “He'll kill me!”

Megamind and Minion looked at each other. Then, as one, they charged over to the table. In his hurry, Minion knocked Brad over. Brad clasped his hands over his head and curled up in a ball on the floor.

“The whole place is probably wired for sound! Cameras everywhere! They'll be here any second! Get the thing, get the _thing,_ no, the _other_ thing!” Megamind shouted.

“But, Sir, what about the...the cube?”

“ _Don't touch it!”_

They pounded down the hallway. The door crashed open. Brad cautiously raised his head, and then he heard the elderly neighbor lady's voice.

“You kids better knock off that racket! People are trying to sleep!” There was a squawk, and more pounding footsteps, as Megamind and Minion fled down the stairs.

“Well!” came the outraged elderly voice, getting closer. “How rude! Mr. Corbin? Mr. Corbin, you really must remind your friends...”

Brad grimaced. Oh great. Now the old bat was coming in. He hurried to intercept her, but she was already standing in the apartment's hallway, staring at the little blue cube glowing on the floor.

“Bradley! What is going on in here! Where is Mr. Corbin!” she demanded. She looked back at the cube. “Is that...”

“Uh, Mrs. Kindler, uh, we, Ed, I mean, had a break-in.”

Mrs. Kindler gasped. “Well, don't just stand there! Call the police!” Another thought occurred to her. She gasped again, hand flying to her mouth. “Was that who pushed past me in the HALL?” she shrieked. “Where's Fluffy? Fluffy!” she cried rushing back to her apartment.

 _Worried about some stupid cat,_ Brad thought, huffing out a breath, running a hand through his hair. He looked sideways at the cube and a cunning look passed over his face.

He imagined snatching up the cube, pocketing it, and leaving it, oh, nowhere in particular. For a few wild, glorious seconds he fantasized about getting out from under Shadow's thumb. Brad imagined telling the agents who would come looking, that why no, he hadn't seen Ed Corbin at all, really, he had no idea where he was.

But the nightmarish thought arose that someday, somehow, Corbin would re-hydrate, and he would be really ticked off _,_ and would come looking for him.

Besides, Mrs. Kindler had seen it. And she was off to phone the cops now, probably, as soon as she found her cat. Brad had better see this thing through.

He sighed and went to get a glass of water to re-hydrate Corbin, so they would have time to get their story straight before Mrs. Kindler came back and the cops came. Let's see, they were watching a movie marathon, were ordering pizza, and, geez, suddenly Megamind comes through the door...yeah, that sounded good.

He hoped Corbin wasn't still in attack mode when he re-materialized.

 


	11. Strategically Retreating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love sharing a good quote. (And now in my mind I can hear Groucho Marx saying, with a waggle of his eyebrows, "And this is nothing like a good quote." Ahahaha.)  
> Anyway, I like humorous quotes, so here's the one for this chapter:
> 
> "We've had some fun tonight...considering we're all gonna DIE someday." -Steve Martin

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Brad poured the water over the cube and quickly took several steps back. Corbin re-materialized, a vision of bewildered, damp wrath. Brad raised his arms defensively as Corbin got to his feet.

“Gone! They're gone,” Brad said quickly, peering under his arm.“Mrs. Kindler was just here, she'll be back any second.”

Corbin's hands clenched into fists.

“The Tanaka case?” he asked.

“Gone,” Brad said, gulping.

Corbin's eye twitched.

Mrs. Kindler chose that fortuitous moment to reappear, holding a fluffy calico cat in her arms. Brad had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. In her presence, Corbin's demeanor changed from murderous to indignant.

“Oh, thank goodness you're all right,” said Mrs. Kindler at the sight of Corbin standing there un-cubed. She pressed a thin hand over her chest. “You just don't know what that laser gun will do to you! Probably plays all whack doodle with your atoms. _Are_ you all right, Edward?”

“Just fine, Mrs. Kindler,” said Corbin.

“Now, I've called the police for you, Edward, so you don't have to worry about that. I'm sure everything will be fine. You just explain everything to them,” she said.

“Yes,” said Corbin, glaring at Brad.

 _Yeah, sure, blame me,_ Brad thought miserably. _How could I stop her from calling the cops? What was I supposed to do, tackle her?_

“Though I suppose your things are probably long gone,” Mrs. Kindler said sadly. “When those burglars robbed me last year, I never did get my radio back.”

Corbin closed his eyes and gingerly touched the bruise on his jaw. “I'm...feeling a little light headed, Mrs. Kindler. Maybe some tea?”

“Oh, of course! You poor man. You come sit down over here.”

With the cat dangling from one arm, she took a hold of Corbin's elbow and steered him into his kitchen. “It's just terrible, terrible! Aliens breaking into decent people's homes. We'll all be murdered in our beds next. And you in the CIA and all. No one is safe.”

“DPI, Mrs. Kindler,” said Corbin. “I'm with DPI. We're new.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“THE IMPORTANT THING IS TO REMAIN CALM!” Megamind shouted. “LET'S NOT GO LOSING OUR HEADS, AND RUNNING AROUND LIKE _...WHAT ARE YOU DOING! GET BACK ON THE FREEWAY! WE CAN'T GO BACK TO THE LAIR YET!”_

Minion, nerves shot, yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left. The van's tires skidded and squealed as it was hauled off the exit ramp. The van narrowly missed the guardrail, skittered across three lanes, and finally settled, rocking slightly, back onto the road. Minion was shaking.

“A little more warning next time!” Minion cried. “Sir,” he added.

Megamind was too agitated to notice the lapse in protocol. “Just keep driving!” he said, looking over the back of his seat. “Is anyone following us?” He turned around to face the front again, laughing hysterically. “No, that's crazy, there couldn't be anyone following. Is there?” He looked back again.

“Of course not, of course not, that's ridiculous,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. “I mean, really, there probably weren't even any wires, or cameras, or alarms. It was just a normal apartment, wasn't it? I mean,” Megamind laughed again anxiously, “he wouldn't bug his own apartment! He doesn't want his fellow agents knowing what he's up to!”

“Say...Paranormal Investigations,” Minion said. “Do you think 'Paranormal' includes...aliens?”

“I would not be at all surprised, Minion,” Megamind said. “Do you think they have a Most Wanted List? Because I bet we'll be on it.” He groaned, covered his face with his hands and slumped down in the seat so far that he almost slipped under the dashboard.

“But that's not fair!” Minion protested. “He started it!”

Megamind gave him a disgusted look. “Oh, right Minion! When does that excuse ever work?”

For a while there was only the sound of the tires on the road. The interior of the van changed from light to dark and back to light again as the street lights went by.

Minion steered the van on automatic. Fortunately there wasn't too much traffic. He resisted the urge to step on the gas, and kept an eye out for patrols. Sometimes a cop car parked on the median on this stretch, ready to pounce upon unwary speeders.

“How come he didn't---you know---introduce himself?” Minion wondered. “Like, 'This is Agent Corbin! Stand where you are!' That kind of thing? Aren't they supposed to do that?”

Megamind stared sightlessly at the dashboard. The dream was running through his thoughts again. That stupid, stupid dream.

_...The crow smiled, and struck..._

“Do you think it was a sting operation? Was he undercover?” Minion asked, desperately trying to find some sort of silver lining. There didn't seem to be one. He glanced over at Megamind's slumped form. He was feeling the need for some direction. Some orders to follow about now would be welcome.

“Sir?”

“The bogeyman is real,” Megamind murmured, so quietly that Minion could barely hear him. “And he's got a nice, shiny knife. And a badge! Did you know that 'Corbin' is derived from the French language? Meaning 'crow' or 'raven.' I suppose they could have been ravens.”

 _Ravens?What ravens?_ Minion flared his fins open and closed nervously. “That's interesting,” he croaked. “Um, Sir, where are we going?”

“I don't think it was a sting operation,” Megamind said. “He wasn't trying to lure those two nitwits into a criminal act so he could collar them. He was giving the orders. He was in _charge._ ”

Megamind's heart started racing again. Maybe it _was_ some kind of sting operation, aimed at _him._ The thought was so terrible he pulled his knees up to his chest and covered his ears. Had they bugged the _lair?_ No. No, it couldn't possibly...that was _insane_. Such an elaborate set-up! _They_ couldn't possibly have known that he was about to rob Tanaka Industries. Shadow...Corbin...had been surprised to see them there. If the feds had really been lying in wait, they would have gathered a much larger force to make certain of apprehending the alien fugitives. Come to that, if they knew where the lair was, they wouldn't have bothered to go to all the trouble of bugging it, they would just have moved in and arrested him.

He was not thinking clearly. Carefully he unfolded himself and smoothed down his shirt, glancing briefly at Minion to see if he'd noticed his conniptions. Finding Corbin's badge had thrown him right back into his ancient terror of the men in black, lurking in the shadows, ready to swoop in and take him away if he stepped out of line.

Okay, so the most likely scen- _ah-_ rio was that Corbin was an agent who had gone bad. Now it was just a question of whether Corbin would pursue them as Shadow, or as an agent, with all the might of the federal government behind him. Because he had a feeling that Corbin could get the entire FBI, CIA, and Humane Society after him. The man was clearly more than willing to commit acts of burglary. Why, planting false evidence was probably a snap.

Minion took an exit. Megamind felt too dispirited to give any orders, or even to be very curious about where Minion was going.

Several minutes later the van stopped behind a convenience store. Megamind looked at Minion with a puzzled frown.

Minion reached down to the floor and picked up the key-o-matic. “Be back in a minute, Sir,” he said, and he got out.

Megamind propped an elbow against the door and laid his cheek on his fist. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand, then let the hand fall to his lap. He stared dully at the gray bricks of the building. He felt numb. Numb was good. It was an improvement over gut-lancing, all-consuming panic. It would be nice to remain numb a little longer.

Minion returned with several plastic-wrapped burgers and sandwiches.

“That looks suspiciously like real food,” Megamind muttered. “Did they run out of vitamin-packed oat rectangles?”

Minion grinned and shrugged. “Eh. Grease is more comforting.”

The burgers were still warm from the microwave. Megamind unwrapped one without any great enthusiasm, then discovered that he really was hungry. He wolfed it down. Minion snapped up his burger patty in two bites, then shook a few fish flakes onto the top of his water to finish.

“Corbin's going to want to track us down and make sure we don't tell anyone about his little moonlighting operation,” Megamind said. The burger had tasted pretty good going down, but now it sat in his stomach like a rock. “And it's just our word against his.”

He gasped and sat up as a beautiful thought blossomed.

“The computer!” he cried, grabbing Minion's arm. Minion yelped. “Computer geek's laptop!” Megamind shouted. “It's bound to be full of incriminating evidence! If we're cornered, we can corner him right back! Maybe we can strike a deal with Mr. Two-Faced Shadow Agent!”

Excitedly he scanned the floor. His recovered gadgets were piled by his feet. The Tanaka case was sitting between the front seats. Megamind clambered into the back of the van and looked around in increasing puzzlement.

“So where is it?” he demanded.

“What, the laptop? Didn't you get it?” Minion asked.

Megamind's stomach plummeted. “I told you to take everything!” he shouted.

“But I grabbed everything on the table!” Minion wailed. “You just kept saying 'get the thing'!”

“ _He had it under the desk with him!_ ” Megamind shouted. “How could you not...” Breathing hard, he gripped the back of his seat and forced himself to calm down. Minion was cringing in his bowl. Megamind climbed back into the front and dropped into his seat.

“All right,” he said. “So. The laptop was under the desk and you didn't see it. Fine. The very important computer with potentially vee-tal, life-saving information was left behind. Okay. No problem. We'll have to go to this Brad's place. Assuming he's not roommates with Corbin. And we are _not_ going back there, that's for sure.”

“Um,” said Minion in a little voice.

Megamind closed his eyes. “Don't tell me. Let me guess. You didn't take his wallet. So we don't know where he lives.”

“Well, everything was happening kinda fast...”

Megamind clenched his hands into fists. “Well, then, Minion. All we have to do,” he said, voice rising, “is scour the city, with its _millions_ of inhabitants, for _a guy named Brad!_ ”

“Yes. I mean, no,” Minion squeaked. “I mean...”

“Forget it, forget it,” Megamind said fiercely.

“Freezer Burn,” Minion said hopefully. “Did you see the license plate on his truck? We could...”  
“No,” Megamind said. “No, I didn't bother to look.” He'd been happy to see Freezer Burn leaving, because it was one less thing to worry about, and had taken no more notice of him or his vehicle.

“Well, what about the case? What'd they steal?” Minion said.

“I guess we might as well see what's so important,” he muttered. He put the case on his lap and opened the lid. Rows of silver discs greeted him. He pulled them out one by one, reading the labels.

“Face Melter,” he read aloud. “Dance Party Factor Three. Samurai Delta Squad...what the hell...?”

“Hey! It's Super Gotcha!” Minion said in delight. “That's not supposed to come out until next year! They're video games, Sir! These must be prototypes.”

“I know what they are,” Megamind snapped. “But...but...he stole...we went through all _that_ , for...I almost got my head cut off for a bunch of _games_?!” He scowled at the innocent rows of discs.

It wasn't plans for some top-secret weapon, or schematics for a revolutionary vehicle, or state of the art electronics. Just a bunch of games.

He slammed the case shut.

“Let's just go back, Minion.”

Much later, in hindsight, he marveled that he was so unenthusiastic about their haul. But at the time the wonders of the gaming world were not yet apparent to him. He'd only ever had one video game, a clunky, hand-held model that the warden had given him when he was thirteen. It featured a gorilla throwing barrels at a technician, who had to jump over them. He mastered it in a few days and grew bored with it. He concluded that video games were simply another product for the unimaginative public, obviously concocted as a time-waster. He was going to dismantle it to see if anything more interesting could be done with its innards, but then he was stopped by the yearning, anxious look in Minion's eye. Deciding that Minion needed some work on his fine motor skills, he gave him the game. Then “Smiley” Rodrigo stole it, and the game got crushed in the ensuing epic battle when they went to reclaim it.

 _Video games!_ he thought disgustedly. He supposed the discs were worth something.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was still dark when they pulled into the main floor of the hideout. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago they'd blissfully been packing for the raid, unaware of the trouble lying in wait for them. Minion was feeling quite low. He'd almost let Megamind get his throat cut. Shadow had broken free of Minion's grip and nearly clobbered Sir again. And he'd left that computer behind. His list of mistakes was growing shamefully long.

Food, usually a pretty good cure-all, had not worked its magic. The mood was grim.

 _I wonder what he'll do,_ thought Minion. _Maybe beef up our security. Install some cameras, or an alarm, or..._

Megamind wordlessly gathered his inventions and got out of the van. Minion picked up the Tanaka case and followed him down the stairs. He set the case on a table, then busied himself in the kitchen area, pretending to reorganize the food stores, watching Megamind out of the corner of his eye. Megamind stripped off the dirty clothes, leaving a trail of them as he walked across the floor. He put on a clean v-necked t-shirt. He picked up a red flannel shirt and stared at it for a long time. With a huge sigh he put it on and buttoned up. Then he put on a zippered sweatshirt and pants, and climbed under the blankets. He lay on his back and laid one arm over his eyes.

Minion stood still for a moment, at a loss. _He's going to sleep?_ Well, no wonder, after everything that happened. But Minion wasn't sleepy at all.

So he began to straighten up. He picked up the discarded clothes. He wiped down the refrigerator and cleaned out the microwave. He swept the floor, conscientiously keeping away from Sir's sleep area, and swept under all the work tables. He was just getting started on sorting all the screws and bolts and washers into their proper containers---really, the work area should have been reorganized a long time ago---when Megamind spoke.

“Minion, if you don't go to sleep right now, I am going to take you to the nearest working toilet and flush you down it,” he said flatly.

Minion winced. He'd been making too much noise. He better power down.

Miserably obedient, Minion retreated to his corner and powered down, but he still couldn't sleep. He swam around. He bumped his head against the dome. He nibbled on his fins. He did not feel right at all.

In his mind's eye he saw it all again, Megamind pinned against Shadow, knife at his throat. And all that _blood._ He almost lost him. He almost... He worried at his tail, caught one of the trailing fronds in his teeth and chewed on it.

If Megamind would just _say_ something, well, something else, anyway. Where was the tirade? The manic energy? Anything was better than this silent treatment.

Guiltily, Minion realized that he hadn't even prepared an ice pack for Sir's other injuries, or even treated the knife wound on his neck.

Minion powered up again as quietly as possible. He tiptoed over to Megamind's cot. _Maybe I can just sort of stand by the bed, so if he wakes up and needs anything, I can be right there to..._

“What is it,” Megamind snapped, without moving.

Minion jumped. Crap. He thought he was asleep.

“I was just checking, to see if you needed anything,” he quavered.

“No, I don't need anything,” Megamind murmured. “Except for you to stop clanking around. Go to sleep.”

Minion nervously twined his fingers together. He didn't feel like a rough and tough henchman. He felt like crying.

“Can I sleep with you?” Minion burst out, and clamped his hands over his mouth.

Megamind raised his arm a little and peered at Minion with a single incredulous eyeball. Then he let his arm fall over his face again.

“Don't be such a baby, Minion,” he said. “You'll be telling me you're afraid of the dark, next.” He let his arm fall to his side and looked stonily around the room. “I notice that you've left all the lights on.”

“I can't help it,” said Minion. “I don't feel good. I just---just---” He rocked back and forth in agony.

“I'm so _sorry_ , Sir, it was all my fault! You almost _died,_ and I couldn't do _anything!_ ” Minion wailed. “Please don't be mad at me anymore! I _should_ get flushed! I _should!_ ”

Megamind sat up in alarm. “I didn't mean it, Minion. I'd never really---”

Minion walked back and forth in agitation. “The ice rays! I didn't even _think_ about the de-gun! And it was right there in my side panel! And you needed me and I didn't hear you---”

“Well, it's not like I was calling for help, Minion, you can't be expect---”

Minion flung his arms out in despair and nearly hit a lamp. “And I couldn't even hold on to that---that bad man!” Minion whirled and caught the side table a glancing blow. Paper plates and notebooks scattered across the floor. “He almost got you again! And I didn't get that computer, I should have thought of it, I was---”

Megamind jumped off the cot and grabbed Minion's arms. “Minion, stop it! I'm not angry at you, okay? I'm not going to flush you! Don't you know an idle threat when you hear one?” Minion looked at him sorrowfully.

Megamind stared into Minion's soft brown eyes. “I'm _not_ angry. All right? All your clumping around was making me crazy. That's all.”

Still holding onto the big arms, Megamind cocked his head in thought. He looked back at Minion again. “Freezer Burn struck too fast,” he said. “You couldn't have gotten the de-gun out in time. Your arm would've been frozen to your side. You _saved_ me, Minion. You pushed me out of the way just in time. Even I, yes, even I was taken by surprise. And I would like you to take note that I am not dead. Breathing. Pulse. This is what is known as 'evidence',” he said, grinning crookedly. Minion managed a brief shaky smile, but his face looked close to crumpling again.

Megamind ran his gaze around the room. “Look,” he said. “Get the lights turned off. We can leave one on. You can sleep with me in the cot, just for tonight. Okay?”

“Okay,” Minion sniffled.

And so the blankets were rearranged, and the bowl disconnected from the robot suit. Megamind lay on his side with Minion's bowl held in the curve of his arm, against his chest. It was the way they'd always slept together when they were children, about a million years ago.

It was familiar and comforting. They lay quietly for a while.

“You socked Corbin a good one, Minion,” Megamind said. “I told you that he couldn't handle you, and I was right, wasn't I?”

“Yep. You were right, Sir,” Minion said.

“The look on his face when he saw you standing in his kitchen was priceless,” Megamind chuckled.

Minion gave him a real smile then, all his pointy teeth showing. “Yeah, like a deer caught in the headlights!”

“That was a good move on your part, when he called me that name, and you twisted his arm without me even having to say anything,” said Megamind. “Shows initiative. Teamwork.” Minion blushed happily.

An old ritual drifted back into Megamind's memory. “Knock knock,” he said impulsively.

Grinning, Minion opened the dome and stuck his head out. Megamind pressed his forehead against the damp scales of Minion's head. A little water dribbled onto the blanket but Megamind ignored it.

“Now go to sleep,” he said. “Don't snore.”

“Okay, Sir,” Minion said, sinking back into the water.

A minute later he was snoring gently.

Megamind stared into space. For some reason the old bedtime ritual made him feel both better and worse at the same time. There was a hollow place in his chest and he bit his lip.

He'd been about to fall into a sort of thought-free stupor, if not actual sleep, before Minion had his breakdown. What with all the fuss, now he was wide awake. His back was cold. The cot was against the wall. He couldn't sleep if the bed wasn't against the wall, even though a steady stream of arctic chilliness radiated off it. Very carefully, so as not to disturb Minion, he wadded up a blanket for insulation.

The single lamp that Minion had left on illuminated the computer station, a pile of motherboards, and a couple of teetering stacks of books. Beyond the light's dimensions, the rest of the basement faded into dreary gray and black. It was like solitary confinement.

He'd meant to leave the prison behind forever. _Of course you can't_ _ **go**_ _home again_ , he thought bitterly. _You always drag the wretched place around with you everywhere you went._

On the ceiling, a few cobwebs waved in the heat currents that wafted off the space heaters. Minion always industriously swept them away, and the spiders, awakened from hibernation by the warmth, always just as industriously wove them again.

It was a lesson in perseverance, like that old story of the general who, having suffered yet another defeat, watched a spider patiently rebuild its web seven times, and from that he got the courage to persevere, to once again go into battle, and thereby became victorious. Megamind distrusted the tale. It sounded suspiciously like one of those stories that had character-building morals in it. But if it was crap, it was pretty good crap.

 _Hey, you know who else has probably got lots of perseverance?_ a sarcastic, perky voice piped up in the back of his head. _Agent Corbin! You really lit a fire under him, I'll bet! He's got lots of incentive to track_ _ **you**_ _down. Haul you away to Area 51 quicker'n you can say “extra-terrestrial.”_ _ **Especially**_ _quicker than_ _ **you**_ _can say it. And it's not “extra-terres-tree-ALL” by the way._

Megamind, brain fogged with fatigue, played along. _So what's this? My conscience?_ he thought wearily.

 _Nope! Good guess, though,_ came the reply. _I'm your Second Thoughts. You really suck at listening._

Megamind's lip curled in a sneer. _Well, if I'd listened to **you** , I'd never have left the prison, so there._

 _Ohhhh, yeahhh,_ came the snarky reply. _So how's that workin' out for ya? Got yourself a nice place here, a shabby rundown factory no one else wants._

 _Oh, shut up,_ he thought at himself.

 _Better give warden a call,_ the voice said, almost kindly. _You're in over your big, blue head. Warden'll take you back. You know the number. Heck, he'll probably even drive over and pick you up himself! Sure, there'll be a little yelling, okay, maybe a **lot** of yelling, and some scolding. Just nod and tune him out, and you'll be back in your nice, safe cell in no time. I don't think you'll get the same offer from Corbin..._

 _I said shut up!_ Megamind thought fiercely. _I don't need the warden and I don't need you!_

Second Thoughts were silent. Apparently it'd run out of things to be snarky about.

 _I'm cracking up,_ Megamind thought. _Lying here arguing with myself. Well, I don't need anybody. I don't._

He hugged Minion a little harder, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So we're watching _Rocket Racers: Return of Skyjack,_ it's the fourth movie, right? And we're waiting for the pizza,” said Brad, waving his arms. “It's not the best one, the third one was a lot better, frankly, they should've followed up on the twin brother storyline, I don't know why they...”

The police officer sitting in the chair facing them tapped his pen on his notepad and interrupted. “Please, sir, can you tell me what happened next? With the _robbery?”_

Brad was reluctantly dragged back to reality. He glanced at Corbin, sitting impassively on the other side of the sofa, holding an ice pack to his bruised jaw.

Brad could tell that Corbin was reining his anger in pretty hard. But he seemed content to let Brad spin the story that they'd been watching an all-night movie marathon of Rocket Racer movies. It really was on TV, too. Brad had been pretty bummed over having to miss it, because they had to do the Tanaka break-in.

“So we're watching the movie, waiting for the pizza guy, and when the bell rang, whammo!” Brad smacked his fist into his hand. “It was Megamind! Can you believe it? I couldn't believe it!”

Brad was quite pleased to have come up with this story, and he was a little irritated that Corbin didn't seem very happy with his inventiveness. It wasn't like Corbin was adding much to the conversation.

The officer made some notes. “So what did he take?”

Brad blinked. “Excuse me?” he said, lips going dry. Corbin shifted his weight.

“What did he steal?” the cop asked. He glanced around at the room. The TV, stereo, and video player were all conspicuously not stolen. Brad felt a bead of sweat form on his temple. He hadn't thought of that yet. During the endless wait for the police, he'd spent most of his energy keeping Mrs. Kindler between himself and Corbin. When the cops finally arrived, she'd given her accounting of events, then taken her cat back to her apartment.

The other cop was looking at the chairs lying on the floor by the table. Megamind and Minion had knocked them over in their mad dash to gather up Megamind's inventions.

“They knock these over? Over here?” the cop asked.

Most of the surfaces of Corbin's apartment were covered with the usual debris of bachelor living, such as newspapers, take-out containers and odd pieces of clothing. The table was bare.

“Do you have any idea why he would break into your place, Mr. Corbin?” the annoyingly inquisitive cop asked.

Brad felt the drop of sweat trickle down his hairline. He hoped it wasn't visible.

“Minion attempted to confine me, I fought back, I was dehydrated,” Corbin announced. “When Megamind found my wallet and discovered my status as a DPI agent, he panicked and fled without stealing anything.”

The note-taking cop said, “Is that what happened, Mr. Newton?”

“Yep. That's pretty much it,” Brad said quickly.

“So what's DPI again?” asked Officer Annoying.

“Department of Paranormal Investigations,” said Corbin. “Used to be a subsection of the FBI. Recently we acquired separate status and operate independently. It's to more effectively deal with the growing challenges posed by the super-powered community.” It was straight out of the brochure, if DPI had a brochure.

“You sure this break-in didn't have anything to do with your occupation? A case you're working on...?” the inquisitive cop asked. The question hung in the air.

“No,” said Corbin. The cop looked at him, then at Brad. Brad dropped his eyes.

The note-taking officer nodded and wrote some more. He snapped his notepad shut. “Well, if you can think of anything more to tell us, any details could be helpful.”

“Yes. Thank you, officers. I'll be sure to let you know,” said Corbin.

He escorted the officers to the door and banged it shut behind them.

The cops looked at each other, then ambled down the hall.

The inquisitive cop muttered, “This apartment is on the seventh floor. Megamind just _happened_ to break into a place that's rented by a fed?”

The other one rolled his eyes. “Leave it,” he muttered.

“Feds are jerks,” grumbled the inquisitor. “Never tell us anything. 'Oh no, Officers, I'm just an innocent victim',” he sang in a nasally voice. “Paranormal. What is that, ghost busters? Stupid. It's illegal to conceal information about a crime. Like this break-in! What's he hiding? What's...”

“Would you drop it already?” his pragmatic partner snapped. “You see conspiracies everywhere. It's not worth your job.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Man, good thing that's over with, huh?” Brad said, standing up to go put his laptop back in its case. Corbin came back into the room. Brad turned, and his smile faded. Corbin was walking at him _fast._

Corbin took hold of Brad's shirt and walked him backward until he slammed against the wall so hard that the pictures rattled.

“What did you tell him?” Corbin said in a low voice.

“I...you heard me...the movie,” Brad gasped. “We were watch---”

Corbin slammed him against the wall again, once. “Not the cops, stupid,” he said through his teeth. “What did you tell that little blue _rat_ that broke into _my_ house and that _you_ let walk out of here with twenty million dollars worth of merchandise?”

A number of thoughts went through Brad's head, one of which was, if all that stuff was worth twenty million, why was Brad only getting two thousand, and 'let' walk out? What was with the 'let'? Had Corbin really expected Brad to offer resistance? To tackle Minion and heroically wrest the case from his bone-crushing metal hands? To confront Megamind? Brad may have been bigger than Megamind, but he was under no illusions about his own fighting abilities. He had a feeling that even without the de-gun, Megamind's pointy elbows would win the day in a physical altercation.

In the interests of self-preservation, Brad did not ask those questions.

“Nothing. I didn't tell him anything,” Brad squeaked. “It was just like you said. He found your badge and totally freaked. He didn't even take your wallet.”  
Corbin's face contorted. “I don't care about the wallet. What I care about is the fact that the biggest score of my career just walked out the door. You tell me _exactly_ what you told that little freak.”

“They asked me if your ID was fake, I said I couldn't say, that you'd kill me,” Brad gulped. “I swear I didn't tell them about the business or anything, and they grabbed the stuff and ran.”

Corbin stared into his eyes for another few heart-pounding moments, then he exhaled and let go of Brad's shirt. He turned and walked over to the desk. Brad slumped against the wall very quietly. When Corbin turned around again, he had a knife in his hand. He held it up and watched the light play along the blade. Brad watched, only his eyes moving.

“You said that the tracers were undetectable,” Corbin said to the knife. “How is it that Megamind found them?”

Brad ran a tongue over his lips. “I said they were...practically...undetectable,” he said hoarsely. “I don't know how he discovered them.”

Corbin sighed and lowered the knife. He stared into the distance. “We need to update security immediately. Get Rahim and Dougie on the phone. Can you work on the system from here or do you need to be at the office?”

Corbin's lack of understanding how computers worked never ceased to amaze Brad, but he was careful to never show any condescension. While it was imperative to always prove your usefulness to Corbin, showing off your superiority was a good way to invite a lot of unnecessary pain into your life. But it had been a long night. Brad was exhausted.

“No, I can do it from here,” he mumbled. “I can set up a conference call with the guys, video feed. But I'm kinda wore out, I'm not really with it right now, maybe tomorrow...”

Corbin's gaze sharpened on Brad and stopped his feeble protest.

“You think you're done for the night? You all tuckered out?” he said quietly. “How good are Megamind's hacking skills? Hm?”

“I don't know,” Brad mumbled. He hated it when Corbin asked questions that didn't really require an answer.

“Well, I don't know either, Brad, which is why you better get every security system in our network tightened up real quick, and I want to know if anyone, anywhere, even looks into DPI, even if it's just some other snot-nosed kid doing research for a school project. You can do that, right? Get notified whenever our system gets accessed and find out what computer is being used?”

Brad nodded wearily. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He took out his cell phone.

Corbin picked up the phone on the desk. He had his own call to make. He dialed.

“Hey, Ulrich. I need your nose. Get over to my place right away.”

 

 

 

 


	12. A Little Cat-and-Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where words appear in brackets {like this} it indicates that Mandarin Chinese is being spoken. I saw this type of thing in comic books.
> 
> Here's the quote for today:
> 
> "Igor gave this some thought. In his experience, a prime definition of 'the wrong hands' was 'the government.'"  
> -Terry Pratchett, from the novel Making Money.

 

Megamind's eyes opened and he bolted uptight.

“Logan Wannamaker, 1208 Peach Tree Street, Metrocity!” Megamind shouted. Minion nearly rolled off the cot as Megamind flung himself off and leaped to his feet.

“A coincidence? I think not,” he said, hopping around and pulling his boots on.

“Wha...Peach Tree?” Minion mumbled.

“The intruder! Logan Wannamaker! Come on, Minion, get with the program.”

He went over to the computer station and began flicking on switches. Power strip, router, monitor...

“Some louse tries to kick the door in and a couple nights later we're practic---why isn't the monitor coming on?” he snapped. He looked at the electronic tower. “Nothing's on!” Grumbling, he crawled under the table.

Minion, still stuck in the cot, looked at his motionless robot body standing a couple of feet away. If he were close enough, he could activate the arms, and put himself into the suit. He concentrated. The robot body remained motionless. Nuts. He must be a little too far away for the neural links to work.

“Um, Sir? If you could pick me up? I'm kind of stuck here,” he called.

A torrent of cursing erupted from under the table.

“Mice!” Megamind shouted. “Mice chewed right through the cable!” He emerged from the depths, a few stray cobwebs clinging to his scalp and eyebrow. Irritably he brushed them away. “Miserable, stinking, lousy, plague-ridden, detestable...death to them all!”

“If you could even just scoot me over a little, a little closer to the...” Minion said hopefully.

Megamind paced around the room, stepping over the power cords that littered the floor.

“This Logan was a ruse. A plant. A spy. An informant! I'll tell you this! He will RUE the day he crossed my path. He will...will...” His voice trailed away, and he stopped pacing. “Of course,” he said reluctantly, “he couldn't have told on us. He was cubed at the time I was planning my brilliant break-in.”

He scowled around the room, looking for something to vent his frustration on. He hated it when his train of thought got de-railed, even if he did the de-railing himself. The trespasser, their failed robbery attempt, getting attacked by another criminal gang, and for the leader of that gang to be a rogue federal agent...

There were too many coincidences, too many variables, too many unknowns. It all had to come together somehow, it _had_ to.

“I'm not going to spend all day messing around with wires,” he announced. “I am going to investigate this Logan person myself, and I need a computer that hasn't been ravaged by rodents.

“Come on,” he ordered, and went up the stairs. There was the sound of the van door slamming, and the basement was silent.

Minion sighed, waved his fins, and waited.

A few seconds later, he heard the sound of the van door opening and shutting, and the sound of Megamind's footsteps as he stomped heavily down the stairs again. Jaw stiff with irritation, Megamind walked over to the bed.

“You are a _lot_ of work, you do know that, don't you, Minion?” he said testily, as he picked Minion up and deposited him back into the robot suit.

“Yes, Sir, I know,” Minion said. He powered up, raising his arms and flexing his fingers. They creaked. He wondered when they would be able to get to work on his new robot suit.

He also would have liked to point out that it was the middle of the day, and keeping a low profile would be challenging, but sometimes it was best to let Megamind's manic thought process run its course. It was, perhaps, not a very respectful attitude, but it helped Minion figure when to protest a course of action, and when to go along for the ride until a new, shinier object of interest captured Megamind's attention.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Not a peep, now,” Minion said to the two sole employees of Computer Solutions, and began to shut the closet door on them.

“Wait---but---I'm claustrophobic!” one of them gasped. The man did look pretty pasty. Minion hesitated, but then he frowned and twitched his fins in irritation. It was the middle of the day, and by his internal clock, he should still be asleep, and he was not in the mood to make hostages comfy.

“You don't want to get dehydrated, do you?” Minion said. “Those cubes are _really_ small. A _lot_ smaller than this closet,” he added, narrowing his eyes. The man gulped and pulled out his inhaler. Minion shut the door.

Megamind was typing furiously on the computer keys. Minion wandered about the cramped back room, piled high with circuit boards and computers in various stages of repair. He went out to the store's front door and put up the “Closed” sign. He browsed through the store's meager offerings. There were some old joysticks and a few other more complex video game control systems on one shelf, and Minion bagged one for his own use. After a moment he scooped up a few more. Might as well have a few spares. He peered out the window at the street below.

Computer Solutions was a store that specialized in rehabilitating used computers. It was located on the top floor of a six-story building that also housed a dentist's office, a craft store, and a flower shop. It was part of a row of buildings that were sandwiched together without even alleyways to separate them. A couple of delivery vans had been busy at the back, so they'd taken the long way around and entered the building via the rooftops, from three buildings over.

Minion wandered into the back room again to check on Megamind's progress. His eyes brightened as he noticed, for the first time, the employee's coats hanging on the wall.

“Hey, look!” he said excitedly, taking one of them down. “This is just like the one you threw away last night. Just dark gray.” He looked at the tag. “It's even the same size! Isn't that lucky?”

Megamind looked over his shoulder at the beaming Minion. He looked the new tent-parka up and down. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Wow,” Megamind finally said. “What a...stroke of luck. You better empty the pockets first, though. I don't want to end up with that wheezy guy's used handkerchiefs.” Then Megamind realized he was still wearing the red flannel shirt he'd put on to keep warm last night. Oh no! Had he really come out in _public_ wearing this thing?! What was the message here, Alien Lumberjack? He really did need that new coat to cover this questionable fashion statement.

Megamind turned back to the screen, and leaned back with a sigh. “The closest that Logan Wannamaker seems to have gotten to government work was participating in the President's Physical Fitness Challenge in grade school,” Megamind said drearily. He was disappointed.

“Sir,” Minion said, “I really think you're pursuing a dead end. That man was completely lost. I'm _sure_ we don't have anything to worry about. And, you were right, as _usual_ , to decide to take him down. You knocked him out and protected the lair, all without being spotted! Really excellent work, Sir,” he added, using flattery in an attempt to gently steer Megamind in another direction.

Megamind drummed his fingers on the desk. It would seem that this Logan really was who he appeared to be, a chance stranger stumbling across his doorstep. He leaned back in the chair and looked thoughtfully at the computer screen for some time. He felt the knife cut on his neck. The skin surrounding it was very sore, and the scab was dry and itchy. He let his hand fall before Minion could scold him about picking at it. He had a slight headache and his teeth ached dully on the side of his face that had taken the hit.

He should try to find out as much as possible about Edward Corbin.

But Corbin would be expecting him to come nosing around, or at least he wouldn't want to take any chances that Megamind _wouldn't_ come start digging around. Megamind's discovery of Corbin's ninja persona was a major breach of security.

He pushed off the desk and swiveled around in the chair. Last night he'd been running scared, as if the entire armed forces was about to come swooping in with helicopters and search lights and SWAT teams. Panic had been doing the thinking. Of course, Corbin _could_ manufacture evidence that would make the whole defense department want to get a hold of Megamind pretty badly, but would he?

Corbin didn't seem like the sort to let others exact rev-ahnge on his behalf. He seemed like the sort who would want to capture Megamind and deal with him _personally._ He wouldn't want to share. So...how far did his reach extend within DPI? Perhaps he kept his little crime ring separate from his formal job, perhaps not.

Last night Megamind had been running scared. All right, he admitted in the privacy of his head, it was an all-out panic, but he was seeing things a little differently in the daylight. Which, incidentally, he had seen far too little of lately.

The words he had spoken to comfort Minion last night came back to him.

“What really happened last night, Minion?” he said, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Huh?” Minion put aside the laptop he was examining. “Well...” he said, scratching his dome. “We got in a fight, you almost got whacked, we followed them back to the leader’s place...”

Megamind grinned. “...And we kicked his butt. And made off with his precious loot!” he said. He gave a short bark of laughter. “And we got away with it, too!”

A surge of fierce triumph flowed through him and with a push of his foot Megamind sent himself rolling across the room. His chest swelled with elation.

“Corbin is only a mere mortal, after all!” Megamind said. “Bogeymen? Ha! Such childish notions are best aired out and squashed.”

“Yeah, I guess so, but...” Minion said uneasily.

Megamind was starting to feel downright annoyed with himself. To go haring out of Corbin's apartment like that was so amateurish.

He shoved the chair back across the room and came to an abrupt halt at the computer station. He was glad that those mice had chewed up the wires. It had gotten him out and about, and he'd had some time to think.

He began to think about security protocols, firewalls, computer codes, encryption systems.

The U.S. government, like all governments, was in a covert war with all other nations, trying to protect its secrets, and at the same time trying to uncover the secrets of other countries in acts of one-upmanship, always angling for an edge. They probably had some of the most up-to-date systems in the world. Security would be a top priority for them.

They probably had all sorts of tracking capabilities and alarms worked into their systems.

“Who else do you suppose Corbin has on his payroll, Minion?” he said musingly.

Minion said, “You mean, besides Freezer Burn? Guess you could get into their system and find out.”

“Yes...if they are even listed. And I suppose Agent Corbin will be expecting me to do something like that.” He got up and went into the outer store. He peered around the edge of the window to take in the layout of the street.

Across the street and down the block, a “For Rent” sign graced the top of a squat brick building. There was a restaurant on the ground level and the windows on the top two floors were boarded up.

Megamind went into the back room again. He hopped into the swivel chair again and spun around. “I think I know a simple way to have some idea of who else is on Corbin's payroll. And it may even be rather fun.” He grabbed onto the desk to stop the rotation.

Minion watched with a certain amount of consternation. If it had been up to him, he would have been perfectly happy to melt back into the shadows and go back to doing what they had been doing, which was getting the lair into habitable shape, breezing into stores in the wee hours of the night to procure supplies, helping with whatever projects Sir came up with, keeping ahead of the cops...even that young super-hero, Wayne Scott, was surprisingly easy to avoid. Once in a while he snagged a criminal or two, or came to the aid of the fire department or other emergency service providers, but mostly Wayne seemed more concerned with his schoolwork and his position as the son of the wealthiest family in town than with being a full-time hero.

Minion liked being out of the prison. They might never have what others might consider normal lives, but as long as he was with Megamind, he was happy. There was evil, and then there was _eee-vil_ , as Megamind sometimes said. Despite Megamind’s grand ideas, but it seemed to him that Megamind mostly did what was necessary to keep them autonomous. They couldn't have regular jobs, so they stole what they needed. They couldn't rent or buy a regular house, so they took over a perfectly good building that was standing idle. They couldn't depend on the law for protection, so they protected themselves.

There was no need to go looking for trouble. Minion would have been perfectly happy to disappear into the back alleys and the shadows again, and not have anything to do with this agent.

But Megamind was _thinking_. He had a look of disatissfaction on his face that did not bode well for Corbin. Minion could tell that Megamind was looking for a way to get back at him, to prove something, either to himself or to that agent. Megamind liked to make things go his way.

Like with all those people who tried to take his photo. Megamind got fed up with that pretty quick, and decided that the best way to deter the pests was to make it financially painful for them to pursue him. Minion had been a little uneasy about all the muggings, but the thing is, it had worked. On the rare occasions he and Sir walked down a street, the people just melted away. And now Megamind, pleased to have gotten his way, sometimes actually sought out photo opportunities.

“Are you going to hack into their system, Sir?”

“In a way, Minion, in a way,” Megamind said. “But not for the purpose of uncovering information. It would be far more prudent to come up with a decryption program back at the lair. They probably have all kinds of whistles and bells set to go off if someone starts digging around. I wonder...how quickly they would respond if someone _did_ try hacking in.” He drummed his fingers on the chair.

Megamind, grinning, gave Minion a brief sideways look. “Want to see what happens?” He typed 'Department of Paranormal Investigations' into the search engine.

“Um...” Minion gulped. “Do we have to?”

Megamind clicked 'Go.'

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In a corner office of the Federal Building, a light began blinking.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind found exactly one page, which dryly described the function of DPI as a department that came about in order to more effectively focus on the growing challenges posed by those who had super powers. And that was it. The director was named, the central office was in Washington, D.C., and there were other offices in five other cities, with the one in Metrocity being the newest.

Megamind did a bit more unauthorized digging, so he would be certain to set off at least one alarm. “That should do it,” he said. “Let's be off.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Minutes later, two cars pulled up to the front of the building. Two more blocked the back street. Corbin got out of the driver's side. A rather hairy man got out of the passenger seat. He badly needed a shave, which wouldn't have been all that unusual, except this man needed to shave his forehead, his ears, and his nose, though the tip of said nose gleamed wetly. His pointed ears drooped slightly. When the other men got out of the other car and slammed their doors, one of the ears flicked, as if dislodging a fly.

“I still don't see why I had to come,” the hairy man grumbled. “You've got the men you need, the building surrounded. I have to re-organize the archives today.”

“In case he runs, Ulrich,” Corbin said impatiently. “You've got the scent.” Corbin pressed his lips together. This had to be more than someone casually nosing around the Internet. Whoever was looking at the DPI website was attempting to access its secret employee records. His pulse quickened. When he got his hands on that little freak he would take great pleasure in retrieving his stolen property.

“Search the basement,” Corbin ordered. “Close all exits.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Corbin and the other agents were quickly discovering that the basement was, in fact, just a basement, and was not housing any runaway alien delinquents. Ulrich sulked in the stairwell. Corbin had not been happy that Ulrich detected nothing in the basement more suspicious than rat droppings and mold.

“This is the place, right, Brad?” Corbin said into his phone.

“The alarm was tripped by a computer up on the top floor,” Brad said gloomily. “I _told_ you it was from Computer Solutions. If you---”

Corbin hung up.

“Top floor,” he ordered.

Some of the took the stairs while others covered the elevator. The door to Computer Solutions was locked. Corbin kicked it in, slamming it open so hard that the glass cracked.

The employees were freed from the closet, though they were not treated very gently by their rescuers. DPI agents were used to encountering people with unusual and sometimes fatally surprising abilities, and tended to react strongly to anyone even remotely suspicious. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially if being sorry meant getting blasted by a sonic scream, or fried by laser eyesight. The unfortunate workers were bound.

“Where are they?” Corbin demanded. He intended to question these men, very closely, but later, after Megamind was in hand. They might be friends of Megamind; it was possible he’d stuffed them in the closet just to make them look like innocent victims.

“How should we know? I think one of your guys stepped on my inhaler,” one of them wheezed accusingly. “Who did you say you were again? CSI?”

Corbin turned away in annoyance. That was the trouble with being part of a new agency. You had to keep _explaining_ all the time.

“Ulrich, pick up his trail,” he ordered.

“Stomping all over,” Ulrich grumbled. “You and your men mess it up.”

“Quit complaining and get on with it,” Corbin snapped.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the brick building across the street, half a block down, Megamind and Minion peered through cracks in the boarded window. Minion was a-flutter with nervousness. He thought that when Sir said ‘Let’s be off’ they would actually be _leaving._ They’d left by the roof again, the same way they’d come in, but instead of heading back to their vehicle, they took a roundabout trail through the back alleys and circled around to this hiding place.

Megamind smiled grimly. “Response time, fourteen minutes,” he murmured. “Not bad, I suppose. They look like pretty standard human issue agent types.” He peered upward. “No sign of any flying entities.”

Minion hadn’t thought of _that._ “Flying... Sir, how were you planning on escaping if there _were?”_

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” said Megamind. “I’m sure a solution would have presented itself. Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “I really should have given this a little more thought.”

Minion glanced at him in mild surprise. An admission that this might have been a mistake? “Yeah, but we can still get to---”

“As amusing as it is to know they are on a wild goose chase, I should have planted a booby trap,” Megamind chuckled. “So Corbin could booby right into it!”

“Make him even madder?” Minion said gloomily.

“Precisely!” Megamind said happily.

There was movement on the roof. Some men had come out of the service stairs. One of them was Corbin. That intense blond head was unmistakable. Another man had a gray and white face, as if he were wearing paint. Megamind squinted. Had the wind just ruffled his...fur?

The furry man curled his lips back over his teeth and jerked his head up and down a few times, as if he were tasting the air, or trying to nudge aside a giant invisible fluffy blanket. The furry man hunched over and was lost to sight. The low wall that circled the roof hid him from view. Megamind narrowed his eyes.

Corbin and the other men moved swiftly across the roof, and the hairy man reappeared on top of the wall. With fluid grace he leaped lightly over to the next building and was lost to sight again. The men following him began to run.

Megamind didn’t believe in werewolves. He did, however, believe in lab experiments gone horribly wrong. It was happening more and more these days.

Megamind’s eyes gleamed. A tracker. Is this the best that Corbin could do? He knew exactly how to throw this one off.

“I’ve seen enough, Minion,” he said. “Time for a strategic retreat.” He grinned. “And it looks like I get to set a booby trap after all.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The noise level was rising in the kitchen of the Golden Phoenix Restaurant, as the prep cooks got ready for the nightly rush, but the loud bang as the back door crashed open made them all look up in surprise from their tasks.

The blue one charged around the kitchen, snatched a jug of wasabi off the counter and lobbed it at the floating-fish robot, who caught it.

{“The freak!”} Hong burst out.

Megamind skidded to a halt so quickly that the floating-fish robot almost plowed into him.

{“Who said that!”} Megamind snapped. Furious green eyes raked over the motionless cooks. A pot of soup was beginning to boil over, but no one made a move toward it.

The alien walked right up to Hong.

{“It was you, wasn't it,”} he said. {“Say that again. I may have misunderstood. My Mandarin is rusty.”}

“Sir, what are you _doing?_ ” the floating-fish cyborg cried. “Ordering takeout?”

Megamind ignored him. He looked prepared to stand there all day, if necessary, as if he hadn't, in fact, been making a mad dash for the exit only seconds before. His eyes bored into Hong's.

Hong clutched his bok choy to his chest.

{“I...said...it is the...very handsome and...distinguished...alien boy, paying a visit to our humble establishment,”} Hong said, inventing wildly.

Megamind smiled, his lips a thin line. {“That's what I thought,”} he said. He glanced off to the side, then grabbed the bottle of hot sauce off the counter. Turning on his heel, he strolled calmly toward the exit. The robot made a few helpless flapping gestures with his arms as if he would like give him a little shove to hurry him along, but didn't quite dare.

The door closed behind them. The cooks looked at each other. Lee went over to the stove to rescue the soup.

{“You’d think he was from Shanghai,”} Hong muttered.

Lee snorted. {“With that accent?”} she said. {“I'd say Beijing.”}

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ulrich followed the trail across the rooftops easily. The servant was a vague mix of metal, grease, and damp gears, and would be quite hard to follow normally. There were so many things in the city that smelled of metal and grease. But the scent of the alien boy was unmistakable. The food he'd eaten, the places he'd visited, the clothes he wore, it all marked him. The scent was surprisingly human. Ulrich supposed it was because the boy had lived on the planet since infancy. Still, every individual creature had its own subtly unique scent, and Megamind was no exception.

Across three buildings, then down the stairs. He remembered to pause at the bottom of the stairs to let the agents catch up.

“You got the trail?” Corbin panted.

“Of course,” Ulrich said. “But here the trail separates.”

“You mean they've separated?”

“No. Still together. But one trail older. But...if he came this way...” Ulrich pointed down the alley, “...why didn't he go back there? Why did he cross over...”

  
“I'm not paying you to think,” Corbin snapped. “Follow the fresher trail. And if the two of them _do_ separate, get after Megamind.”

It was a winding trail, too, that he almost lost when it went across a street, but luckily he picked it up again on the other side, and went along through a backlot, and alleys, always right turns. He seemed to be circling around.

The shouting of the agents finally got through to him and, snorting in annoyance, he stopped. You'd think that federal agents would be in better shape. He paused only briefly, though, just long enough for them to get caught up, and then he was off again.

Right outside the Golden Phoenix Restaurant the trail got suddenly _very_ fresh and his blood roared in his ears. The boy had gone into the building, then come out again. No need to go inside.

Ulrich surged forward, face close to the ground, muscles stretching and contracting, in a glorious feeling of speed and power. There was only the briefest whiff on the air, a hint of sharpness, and his rational side yanked back hard on the reins, and he skidded to a halt right before he ran face first into the lake of hot pepper sauce that was puddled across the ground. He yelped as the violent sting of the spices assailed him. He clapped a hand over his nose and backed up hurriedly, growling.

That sneaky, cunning...! Oh, he was a clever one! To lay such a trap. But Ulrich wasn't fooled! He'd gotten a little sting from the hot sauce, but had avoided a full treatment. The little boy's trick had failed!

There were a few pedestrians about, but Ulrich paid them no heed, and they speedily took to the other side of the street at the sight of him. He blew his nose and took great gulps of air to clear his sinuses. The sting in his nose faded somewhat.

Some people had walked through the sauce already, sending at least four confusing trails in different directions...but the blue boy had not touched the sauce himself. Ha! After some very careful sniffing, edging around the overpowering hotness, Ulrich soon picked up the boy's untrammeled scent again.

Corbin, gasping for breath, was yelping at him and demanding to know what was going on, but he ignored him.

He leaped over the hot sauce and surged ahead.

He didn't stop to think that maybe there might be more than one trap.

With the lingering scent of the hot sauce still throbbing in his nasal passages, he failed to notice the wasabi until he plowed through it, and inhaled it.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Corbin stared at the howling Ulrich, who was trying to claw his way through a storefront, or possibly he was trying to remove his own snout.

Useless. Why was everybody so damn useless? He glanced around. A number of fascinated onlookers were watching the show from a safe distance. Through the plate glass window, Corbin could see a few people huddled around the cash register.

Time for him to take charge.

“Stand back, folks,” he announced. “Everything’s under control.”

Corbin walked toward Ulrich. He reached into his pocket and felt the remote slip into his hand.

“Ulrich,” he said sharply.

“Rrrrhhhwhhaaat!” Ulrich roared, turning red-rimmed, streaming eyes on him. The wolf’s mane on his neck bristled around his flattened ears. He took a few menacing steps forward, and Corbin pressed the button. Ulrich went rigid as the electrode in his collar sent a charge of electricity through him. He fell to the ground, twitiching.

Corbin looked at him impassively. “Take him back,” he ordered his men. “Bind his arms. Better put him in a cell until he recovers.”

They moved to obey and he turned away. He scuffed his foot through the remains of the innocent-looking wasabi powder scattered over the sidewalk. Face hardening, he gazed into the distance.

It was time for a more conventional, investigative approach.

\- - - - - - - - -

“That was fun. Wasn’t that fun, Minion?” Megamind said, laughing heartily.

Minion paused before answering. “Sir,” he finally said in a strained voice, “I don’t mean to be critical, but I would like to respectfully point out that we could have _easily_ gotten to our vehicle, _way_ ahead of that tracker, _without_ all that...”

“Oh, poor Minion,” Megamind chuckled. He grabbed Minion around the shoulders and shook him good-naturedly. Minion glared at the road and kept both hands on the wheel. “I’ll have to do something about that stuffy English butler program you somehow got installed! I’m not making it easy for you, am I?”

“No, you’re not. And I’m not stuffy,” Minion muttered sullenly.

Megamind was unabashed. He gave Minion’s shoulders another vigorous shake and laughed again. “Oh come on! That was _fun!_ Just think of the look on that beast man’s face! On Corbin’s face!”

Megamind’s glee was infectious. Minion could feel himself weakening. Almost against his will he could feel his mouth stretching into a grin.

“Probably was pretty funny,” he muttered reluctantly.

Megamind laughed and flopped back into his own seat.

“You know, I’ll bet they thought they’d found the lair. They’re probably still searching the basement!”

Minion’s face split into a broad grin. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Yeah! Guess we showed them.”

“Who are these _federales_!” Megamind said. “Just a glorified, overpaid, hoity-toity branch of law enforcement! Cops with designer sunglasses! Well, I've shown Metrocity's finest a thing or two! I'll bet I can run rings around the feds! Let's go get that tracking device he tried to plant on me last night.”

Minion stopped laughing. “What? But...”

“I'll disable it.”

“Why didn’t you just do that last night?”

“We would have lost the element of surprise! It hardly matters now. Corbin already knows I'm on to his little game. There's no reason to hide the fact that I discovered his clever little tracking device. I can use it. I’ll be able to develop a scanner specifically for ferreting out such devices. No one will plant anything on me again if I have anything to say about it!”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sky was darkening by the time they approached Sunway Drive, one of the roads that led to Tanaka Industries. Two ragged men were picking through the trash cans along the sidewalk.

Minion pulled up to the curb. Megamind got out and strode forward, with every confidence that the bums would turn tail.

One of the men, with a bomber hat that had ear flaps that stuck out straight from the sides of his head, giving him the look of a surprised bloodhound, stared at him wide-eyed. Then his face split into a wide grin.

“Hey, Code Blue!” he cried and came at him with arms extended.

Megamind blinked. The man grabbed one of Megamind's hands with both of his own and began pumping his arm vigorously.

A shadow fell over the shaggy man's delighted face.

“Stop!” Megamind ordered sharply. This was addressed to Minion, who, still smarting over his failure to protect Sir last night, had been about to intercept the man with extreme prejudice. “Easy, Minion. Don’t overreact.”

Minion's lips were curled back to expose his teeth, and his clawed hands were within an inch of the man's head. He quivered with restrained violence, then he pulled his hands back with an ominous creak.

Bomber Hat bestowed his radiant smile on the smoldering Minion. He seemed blissfully unaware that he'd been about to have his head pulled off.

Perhaps Megamind shouldn’t have assumed that there wasn’t any danger, but he’d seen that the man’s hands were empty of weapons. And he didn’t think that most attackers would have such a joyous expression on their faces. Unless it was a very _special_ kind of attacker, but Megamind suspected he was dealing with a different kind of crazy.

He was still shaking Megamind's hand and showed no signs of stopping. Megamind felt like his feet were about to vibrate right off the ground. He wasn't used to people being happy to see him. Annoyed, frightened, wary, enraged... these were all typical and common reactions. But delighted?

Then the wind shifted and he became acutely aware of the _smell._ As if he were shaking hands with the combined contents of a dumpster and the prison's month-old laundry hamper. But somehow, he couldn't find it in his heart to yank his hand free, or even cover his nose. It would be like kicking six puppies at once. The man was so _overjoyed._

He looked around at the other homeless man, to see if any help was in the offing. The other man, cigarette dangling almost straight down from his partially open mouth, was standing behind one of the trash cans, eying him nervously. Megamind felt that he was on more familiar ground here.

“Code Blue?” Megamind said.

The other man licked his lips. “Uh...yeah...it's...”

“It's what we say when we hear you've been by, man!” the vigorous hand-shaker burst out. If anything his smile grew a couple more inches. “You go to a store, the whole place is left wide open, _wide_ open, man, all that free stuff, man, I even slept overnight a coupla times!”

He showed no signs of releasing Megamind's hand. It was getting numb. He began to pull back a bit, to see if he could extract it without the use of heavy equipment.

“Oh, I see,” he said, pulling his head back just a little more out of the smell stream. “I visit a store, I've left the place unlocked and you...gentlemen...pay the place a visit, too.”

Cigarette man grinned nervously. “We call it a 'Code Blue'. It's just, you know, to let everybody know there's a door open. Everybody knows what it means. You don’t mind, do you, mister?”

“No, no, I suppose not.” He might have to use the Jaws of Life to get his hand back. “Under the circumstances, it is...not inappropriate.”

“I think you've thanked him enough, Curly. He's a little excited,” he said apologetically.

Curly looked at his friend, turned to Megamind again, and carefully, almost reverently, opened his hands and released Megamind's. Curly raised his own hands, ducked his head and stepped back. Geez, the guy was practically _bowing._ Megamind resisted the urge to wipe his hand against his shirt.

“Have you been here long? It's rather far outside the usual zone, isn't it?” Megamind asked. Tanaka Industries was at the very edge of the city limits, and there was little else within miles, other than farmland.

“Me and Reg took the bus out here!” Curly exclaimed. “They got their own restaurant in that place, man, some of the best stuff.” He nodded toward the distant bulk of the buildings. Megamind pitied the other people on the bus. He stepped to the side so the wind was in his face.

“I'm looking for something I left here last night,” he said. Curly's smile hadn't slipped an inch. He gazed at Megamind with eagerness, as if he expected a treat. Megamind turned his back and studied the garbage cans, painfully aware of Curly's attentions. Okay, yes, it was that can. That's where he'd stowed the tracking device.

He found a few cups, but no tracking device. He was sure this was the right one, but to be certain, he went up and down the walk to search a few of the other garbage cans, too. Curly and Minion trailed along like a miniature entourage. Curly wore an expression of happy amazement. Minion was scowling, as if he regretted not taking the man's head off after all.

“You could make yourself useful, Minion,” he snapped. Curly's adoring eyes were getting on his nerves. “Look over there. I left it in a paper cup.” Minion clumped away, pouting.

It could have fallen out. It was so small, it could have been tipped out by the scavengers, unnoticed. If it had fallen out of the cup it could have ended up anywhere. It could be at the bottom of the can, or lodged in something disgusting. How badly did he really need it? Maybe not enough to go scrounging around in the garbage. Surely he could come up with a generalized all-purpose scanner that could detect tracking devices, no matter their origin.

There was surprisingly little traffic on this road, which was fortunate, but a dump truck and a sedan had passed by since they arrived. How long before their presence was reported? Did people even care anymore? His appearances were probably no longer even cause for excitement. Perhaps only enough for witnesses to comment on it to their buddies. “Hey, you know I saw that blue kid on the road the other day? Yeah, seriously! He was goin' through the trash.” This was not an activity that was doing his image any good.

Megamind hesitated, then addressed Reg, who seemed to be the saner of the two. “I don't suppose either of you found anything of an electronic nature during your...excavations?”

Reg stamped out the cigarette then fished another partially squashed stub from behind his ear. “You mean, like a computer?” he asked.

“No, it would have been small, smaller than a bottle cap.”

He shrugged. “Sorry. Don't think so.” He bent over to block out the wind and lit up the dog-end.

“Hey, is it a radio?” Curly said excitedly. “A communicator? You lookin' for a sign from the mothership?”

“Curly,” Reg grimaced. “Don't bother him! Don't---”

“It's all right. It's nothing. Don't worry about it,” Megamind said quickly. He sighed. “I guess I don't really need it anyway.”

 _Mothership. Don’t I wish._ He had sometimes speculated with Minion about the possibility that they were not the only survivors of their doomed world, that other Calli and ichthyoids had escaped the black hole. It was exciting to imagine that someday a mighty intergalactic cruiser would appear in the sky, with tremendous fanfare and alarm from the residents of Earth, and he and Minion would triumphantly walk aboard, heads held high...

...until he remembered how vast the universe was, and, even if there were other survivors, the chances of the Calli locating them were infinitely, mind-bogglingly, depressingly small.

It was a fantasy. A childish daydream that always led to soul-sucking gloom, and he pushed it away.

He looked at the beaming Curly. A corner of aluminum foil peeked out from under his cap.

“There's...a mission on Cook Avenue,” he said hesitantly. “They've got showers, and...and soap.” There, he said it. Surely the man knew he smelled. You'd think his friend Reg would have broached the matter at some point.

Curly's smile disappeared, replaced by horror. “Can't use _soap._ Are you crazy, man? You know all those additives and chemicals and detergents are _poisonous_ , man,” he said leaning in close in a conspiritorial whisper. Megamind leaned back. Aaargh. The odor practically had a physical presence.

“Never touch the stuff,” Curly said, straightening up, much to Megamind's relief. “It gives ya _cancer_.” Megamind glanced at Reg, who shrugged and shook his head.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I'd better be going, then.” He turned on his heel and walked back to the van.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“That was so cool, man!” Curly said. “I got to shake his hand!”

Reg grunted noncomitally as he sifted through some cardboard containers.

“When the blue people come, I'm gonna be the spokesman, man,” Curly said dreamily. “I can show 'em around, show 'em the ropes.”

Reg nodded. “Yeah, you do that, Curly. That'll be somethin' won't it?” he muttered. He leaned down to rummage under a pile of old newspapers. There was a promising aroma of a takeout container with perfectly good leftovers wafting into the air.

Curly turned his back and strolled, real casual-like, down the sidewalk a ways. He cautiously looked from right to left, and, glancing back to make sure that Reg was occupied, he reached into his pocket and took out a white paper napkin. Reg was a nice guy, but he didn’t _understand,_ and he worried so much.

Curly unfolded the little scrap. The tracking device lay in the center of the white square. He leaned in close and licked his lips nervously. What should he say?

“We'll be ready for you guys, man, just leave everything to ol' Curly,” he whispered. “I'll keep you safe. Got my special hat, so's the guvment can't read my mind.” He lifted his bomber hat so the object could get a good view of his winter-grade aluminum foil hat underneath. The pyramid shape wasn't absolutely essential, except in summer, when the sun's rays were at their peak. In winter, he made do with overlapping triangles. Then he could easily hide it under his warm hat. “Your communicator is safe with me.”

He nodded and smiled at the little device. There must an intergalactic camera in there, like the Hubble. He wanted to make sure the blue people knew he was friendly.

He felt guilty about hiding it from Megamind, but Curly had so few special things in his life. He promised himself that if any secret messages from the blue people came through, he’d be sure to let Megamind know.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he got the wasabi powder, a Japanese condiment, from a Chinese restaurant, but Chinese restaurants in the U.S. often feature a few non-Chinese items such as pizza, spinach with cheese, and sushi with wasabi sauce. (At least they do in Minnesota.) Also, the term for describing a skill as being 'rusty' may not actually exist in Chinese...but I took the liberty of using it. It just sounds right to my English-speaking ears.


	13. The Calm Before the Storm

Megamind moved the slide of the semi-automatic into place. It made a very satisfying click.

“There!” he said triumphantly. “Told you I remembered how.”

“Never doubted it for a second, Sir,” Minion said from behind the refrigerator.

“I didn't even load the magazine, you guppy,” Megamind said. “And if this thing _did_ go off, the bullet would've gone right through the fridge, so I don't know why you even bothered to hide back there.”

Al Kopecki, the only guard to win the title of 'uncle,' had taken Megamind aside one day---or rather, he'd taken young Blue aside one day--- and showed him how to disassemble and reassemble Al's own personal semi-automatic.

Megamind never knew why Uncle Al did this. It was shortly after he'd gotten the boot from that sad excuse of a school, the warden had confiscated the de-gun, and he was still reeling from the revelation that, if he continued to behave in a less than stellar fashion, the dark government men would bundle him and Minion off to some dreaded lab for some serious dissection.

Megamind remembered that time as being depressing and nerve-wracking, emphasis on 'wracking'. He couldn't stop jumping at shadows, and he refused to go outside. Being out under the open sky in the courtyard, he felt horribly exposed, as if missiles were about to rain down from above. Certainly there must be spy satellites up there, at the very least, chronicling his every move!

Megamind could scoff at such ridiculous notions now, from the grand vantage point of his all-knowing teenage heights, but the danger had seemed very real to his younger self.

Perhaps Uncle Al had wanted to compensate for the recent hard knocks that Blue had endured. Knowing how to take apart and put together the semi-automatic had given young Blue a sense of power, and having a secret, well, that was pure gold.

Al only had a high school education, and frequently joked about it, but sometimes Megamind suspected that Al felt bad about his lack of education, and wanted to be able to impart some knowledge to the young genius in his care, and the proper handling of weapons was something that Al knew.

It was a terrible risk. The warden would've had Al's head if he'd found out. But, Megamind thought smugly, he never did.

He went over to the cabinet where they kept their increasing supply of weaponry. They'd accumulated several guns of differing types in the course of their nightly excursions, one from a luckless mugger. The others they had found in stores, under counters, locked in back rooms, along with an array of pepper sprays, mace, baseball bats, and truncheons. In certain parts of town, where police response time was depressingly slow, or even non-existent, many citizens trusted strongly in the immediate results of self-protection. It was all well and good to call the police after the carnage was over, but in order to do that, one had to be physically capable of dialing the phone.

Minion edged out from his haven. “That wouldn't go through the fridge,” he said doubtfully, casting a wary eye on the gun.

“It would,” Megamind declared, putting it back with its brethren. “Bullets go through walls all the time.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

“Care to put your theory to the test?” Megamind boomed, whirling around with the gun in his hand again.

  
“Not here, not here!” Minion shouted, holding his hands out in front of him.

Megamind cackled. “Of course not _here,”_ he said, grinning evilly. “Not on _my_ fridge!”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The van roared to a stop in the middle of Goob's Junkyard. Megamind leaped out with the boom box and hit the play button. Metallica filled the air.

“Aaaaaaoooow, Sir!” Minion whined. “We've listened to that like a bazillion times already! I _like_ Metallica, but if I have to hear 'Enter Sandman' again...”

“Bazillion isn't a number, Minion!” Megamind said. “But if it were, then this would be... a bazillion and one! Now. Find me a refrigerator so I may send it to its doom.”

The results of the semi-automatic on the junkyard refrigerator were inconclusive. Some bullets went through the door but lodged in the back, and a couple 'ping'-ed right off. Megamind moved on to testing the power of the brand-spanking-new setting for his de-gun.

The 'de-stroy' setting.

Megamind chose his victim, a decrepit Cadillac, and took aim.

Minion said, “Uh, shouldn't we get behind...”

Megamind pulled the trigger.

The Cadillac erupted. They staggered and ran back from the flames. A magnificent fireball ascended to the heavens, briefly making the junkyard as bright as day.

“Whoaaaaa,” Minion breathed.

“Yes. Whoa,” Megamind concurred, chuckling. “Gas tank must have still been in that one.”

“Hey. Hey, Sir,” Minion said, nudging him. “Try that washing machine.”

“Stand back,” Megamind shouted. He stepped into the warm red circle of light of the burning Caddy. “I'm a professional! Don't try this at home!” he laughed. “Look! One handed shot.”

He planted his feet like a gunslinger from the Old West and swept back his coat from the equally-brand-spanking-new holster. The bulky coat did not stay swept, but promptly lumbered back into its all-enveloping position. Teeth gritted in annoyance, Megamind pulled the coat off and tossed it aside.

There! Much better.

“Reach for the sky!” he shouted at the luckless washer. He waggled his fingers over the handle of the de-gun, then whipped it out and fired. A crackle of blue energy spread over the washer, then it exploded, raining pieces of metal over the landscape.

“A perfect shot,” Megamind shouted, grinning. “I pity the next appliance to cross paths with ME!” He spun the gun on his finger twice before it fell off. Hurriedly he scooped it up from the ground.

Minion laughed. “They won't know what hit 'em, Sir!”

They spent a merry half hour or so blowing things up. Minion threw tires into the air for Megamind to shoot.

“Heave!” Megamind shouted.

“Heave ho!” Minion responded, and flung the tire into the sky.

It was tricky; the black tires were tough to spot against the night sky, even with the clouds that trapped some of the city lights, and sometimes the tires crashed to the earth before they exploded.

Megamind took aim, but a very familiar sound on the edge of his hearing made him look over his shoulder. The tire bounced, unscathed, onto a pile of rusty car parts.

Megamind made a vigorous arm-flapping motion at Minion to cut the music. Minion turned the boom box off. There was the sound of approaching sirens.

“Oh, dear,” Megamind drawled. “The authorities. Whatever shall we do?”

They returned to the trusty van and soon left the sirens behind them.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In his bedroom, Wayne Scott sighed as the sirens reached his ears. He'd almost convinced himself that those muffled explosions were just some car or truck backfiring, but the sirens seemed to indicate otherwise. He turned up the music a little louder on his headphones and tried harder to concentrate on his history paper.

After a long, long talk with Dad about the importance of education, they worked out a compromise. Wayne was able to convince Dad to allow him to keep helping out the Metro City police, but only after he got all his homework done, and only if it didn't violate curfew. Serving the public good was all very well, Lord Scott declared, but the MCPD had been doing just fine before Wayne began “volunteering” to help out, and they could continue to do so without his help. The way that Lord Scott said “volunteering,” it sounded on a par with going around smashing mailboxes or toilet-papering people's yards.

Wayne sighed again and cast a longing look toward the window. Maybe just a quick fly-over, to see what...no, he'd promised. Not until everything was finished. He wished his super-speed worked on class work. But it didn't seem to lend itself to super-fast thinking, or even writing, though you'd think it would, since writing at least was a physical act. He was still learning the enormity of his powers...and his limits.

He concentrated on his paper and tried again.

“Our founding fathers, when they heard about the Boston Massacre, felt real...”

'Felt real bad'? That didn't sound right. Maybe 'outraged.' Yeah, that was a good word.

_I'll bet Blue would've had this thing whipped in no time,_ Wayne thought unexpectedly, and wondered where the thought came from. Anyway, he called himself 'Megamind' now.

Wayne had, quite frankly, given very little thought to Megamind over the years, at least until the news broke about his escape. It disturbed him that the weird little blue kid really _had_ been living at the prison. He thought that he lived with the warden. Lord Scott said that it was because Megamind was so obviously a danger to society, a born criminal if ever there was one.

Wayne didn't like to contradict his dad because it was disrespectful. Certainly the law had to be obeyed or there would be chaos. He was not much given to introspection, but once in a while he thought that, if he were in Megamind's shoes, and had been locked away in prison all his life... _as if there could be a prison strong enough to hold me_ , Wayne though smugly...then he might want to escape, too.

Such thoughts didn't sit right with Wayne, so he didn't worry about it too much. The law was the law, and that was that. Part of the fabric that held society together, like obeying your parents, and keeping your word. Wayne bent over his desk again and got back to work.

After a few minutes he began to idly write out a few names of his own.

… “The Defender”... “Muscle Man” (bleah)... “Metro City Boy” ...

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind and Minion came across a red 1969 Shelby GT 500. A Mustang! Just sitting there at the curb! Practically _begging_ to be stolen.

There was some laughable excuse of a car alarm, which Megamind quickly squelched. No one paid attention to car alarms anyway, other than to curse them out and hope they quit making a racket.

“Can I have the key-o-matic, Sir?” Minion asked as Megamind began to climb into his new vehicle. “I need to pick up some supplies before the storm...”

“But of course, Filet Mignon!” Megamind proclaimed, tossing him the item in question. He hopped into his new car and took off with a squeal of tires for a quick spin around the metro.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As Minion pulled into the lair, he heaved a sigh of relief. The new Mustang was parked smack dab in the middle of the main floor. He parked the van next to the basement door and got out. He walked around the new car, searching carefully for signs of chaos, for any scrapes, dents, or bullet holes, but the vehicle seemed intact.

He went back to the van to begin carrying the bottled water downstairs. The strains of Black Sabbath, at a surprisingly low volume, greeted him when he entered the basement.

Megamind was busy at the computer.

“Sorry I'm late, Sir,” Minion said. “Glad you made it back okay!” He soon had all the boxes, and bottles and things neatly arranged on the shelves. “I had a hard time finding what we needed. People really cleaned off the shelves. I had to go to eight different stores.”

Minion edged past the computer, circumspectly trying to see what Megamind was working on.

“Working on that decryption code, Sir?” he asked. Megamind made an impatient gesture with one arm, shook his head, and went through a series of facial contortions which Minion interpreted as: Decryption boring. Have moved on. Attempting to process new idea. Do Not Bother Me.

Minion tiptoed away, biting his lip, his little heart beating a bit faster with anticipation. Sir was occupied! And from the look of it, he would be busy for quite some time. Now Minion could get a good look at those video games!

He hastily made a cup of cocoa, loaded it with extra marshmallows, and heated a microwave hot pocket. He put the food and the cup at Megamind's elbow and, because hope and optimism were ingrained in his psyche, he measured out some Good 'n' Bountiful Certified Organic Trail Mix into a bowl and placed that next to the hot pocket as well. Then he retreated to the television console and hooked up the game system.

It might have been better if Minion had at least tried to coax his master to turn his brilliant mind back to working on the decryption code, and unlocking the secrets of DPI, and uncovering some ammunition to use against Corbin. But Minion was young, too, his duties weighed heavily on him, and he wanted to relax.

There are times when the best action to take is no action at all.

This was not one of those times.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Three hours later, Megamind straightened up with a groan. He stretched and turned his head from side to side, working the kinks out. Mind control was looking to be a no-go. Controlling even a small number of construction workers to fix up the lair would be nearly impossible. The brainwashing and hypnotism tricks they showed in the movies just did not translate well to real life. Plus, all those people disappearing at once was a big red flag. He was uneasy about a bunch of strangers wandering around the lair in any case, even if they wouldn't be able to remember anything, and he wouldn't be able to guarantee that they wouldn't.

Even victims of mind control still had bodily functions that would need to be taken care of. They'd have to feed and shelter everybody, arrange for bathroom breaks, sleep schedules...what a headache!

No, he would have to go back to his original idea. To build machines to do the work.

He looked over to where Minion was playing video games and tried not to be annoyed. Well, he had given permission for Minion to delve into them when he found the chance, even if video games were a mind-numbing, brain-cell-killing, drone-producing waste of time.

Megamind looked at the formerly hot cocoa. It had turned to sludge. The hot pocket was ice cold. He made a face at the trail mix. This was something that he never wanted to eat even when it was _fresh,_ and Minion had procured it weeks ago.He didn't care if it was natural. So was hemlock. The trail mix had _raisins_ in it, and something called 'banana chips.' He got up to find something more appetizing.

There was half a jar of peanut butter left. He poured in some chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and sprinkles, and stirred it around thoughtfully. It still needed something. After a brief rummage among the shelves he threw in a few marshmallows.

Munching, he wandered over to the television, where Minion was doing battle on the screen.

Minion's shoulders jerked as he yanked the control panel around. Occasionally he muttered “aw, nuts!” as some action went haywire. Megamind slowed as he approached the couch. Minion was utterly captivated. Privately he thought that Minion should not engage in this mindless drivel, but the way his eyes lit up when he sorted through the Tanaka case and its trove of video game proto-types had not gone unnoticed. He didn't have the heart to forbid it.

Megamind watched the action for a minute. Then: “You overshot.”

“Huh?” Minion grunted. “Oh. Get next one.”

Megamind glanced at him. The game appeared to be affecting Minion's vocal skills in a detrimental manner.

“There!” Megamind said abruptly. He waved a hand at the TV. “You missed that one too. He looked closely at Minion to gauge his reaction.

Minion, glassy-eyed, didn't even blink. “There's lots. Don't matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn't matter?” Megamind cried. “You could have picked up another 500 points and three additional life-force capsules!”

There was a discouraging blat of music from the game. 'Game Over' flashed. Minion groaned and fell back into the couch.

“See?” Megamind sniffed.

Minion scowled at him in a most uncharacteristic fashion. “I'd like to see you do better,” he muttered.

Megamind slowly turned to him, a crooked sneer on his mouth. “Move over,” he said.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The warden pulled up to the apartment building and let the car idle. Soon the prison security chief came out of the door, zipping his coat against the cold.

“Thanks for the ride, John,” he said, slamming the door.

“No trouble,” said Parker. “When are you getting a new car?”

“Soon's my ex gets remarried, I win the lottery, and move to Florida,” Schmidt said, grinning. “What a place this is turning out to be, huh? Now we got werewolves running all over!”

“It was only one,” Parker muttered, then shook his head at how ridiculous that sounded. The feds were being very close-mouthed about the incident, and the news reports contradicted each other. A few things were clear though. A strange fur-covered man was seen dashing through the street, possibly chasing someone, or something, and then seemed to suffer a fit or seizure. He was quickly taken down by government agents of the Department of Paranormal Investigations, but it was unclear whether the agents had been tracking this man, or were his colleagues.

And Megamind and Minion had been spotted, too, in the same neighborhood about the same time. Could this wolfman be an associate of the boy's?

His wife Joyce refused to entertain such notions. The more they heard about Megamind's crimes, the less that Joyce believed it. While everyone else was prepared to believe the worst of him, Joyce went in the opposite direction and steadfastly refused to believe that he was anything other than the innocent victim of life's cruel circumstances. She maintained that it must all be some misunderstanding, and would all get sorted out at some point. After the boy was corralled, of course.

What worried Parker the most was the fact that federal agents were involved. The government had mostly kept its distance, and Parker had expended a certain amount of effort to keep it that way, but Megamind's escapades were sure to have reactivated interest in the case. They could use this opportunity to claim that the security measures at the prison were inadequate, and use it as an excuse to take Megamind and Minion away forever.

And what was DPI? Parker had never heard of that particular agency before.

“Hey, stop here, I haven't had breakfast yet,” Schmidt said.

“We're going to be late,” Parker said.

Schmidt chuckled. “Just don't tell the boss,” he said lightly.

Parker 'tch-ed' in both annoyance and amusement, and pulled in to the frontage road that led to the Kum 'n' Go. He pulled up to one of the gas pumps and turned off the motor. He topped off the tank while Schmidt went in to purchase a bagel and coffee. Parker passed him in the lot as he went in to pay.

“Why don't you just use a debit card?” Schmidt said. “Your bank will give you one, probably for free, even. Saves ya a lot of trouble. You can pay right at the pump. That way you don't have to waste time going inside.” Schmidt had recently gotten a debit card and spoke about it at length with all the fervor of a religious convert. 'Paying for gas right at the pump' was his credo.

Parker resisted all efforts to change from a perfectly good system of paying by check, no matter how many times Schmidt told him that he was living in the stone age. Schmidt had long ago worn out the other guards with his proselytizing, especially the younger ones who had been using cards for ages. They had become quite capable at recognizing the glint of zeal in their superior's eye, and were extremely good at being busy when they saw him coming down the hall, so as to avoid lectures about the Wonders of Debit.

“Checks still work, the last I heard,” Parker said, and walked on. He pushed open the door to the station, and walked into the overly bright lights and piped in muzak. There was an overstuffed garbage bag sitting next to the counter. A few items of refuse had escaped from the bag's opening and lay scattered on the floor.

Parker waited behind another customer, and looked thoughtfully at the young man behind the counter, trying to remember where he'd seen him before. By the time it was his turn, he'd placed him.

“Pre-law, right?” Parker said, smiling and pointing at him. He looked at the name tag. The guy hadn't been wearing one last time. “Ronnie.”

Ronnie glanced up from the cash register, then looked down again and punched a few keys. “Oh, hey, Mr.....warden.”

“You can call me Mr. Parker,” he said. “How's the tutoring? Coming along all right?”

Ronnie gave him a lopsided smile. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. It's going good.”

Parker nodded amiably and bent over the counter to write out the check. As he turned to leave his foot kicked a ball of paper all the way to the door. “Oops,” he muttered, and walked over to pick it up. The trash can by the door was closer. He tossed the paper into it and touched the handle to go outside and back to the car...

...a word on a crumpled fold caught his eye...

Parker dove after it, banging his shoulder on the hood of the trash can.

It wasn't even a whole word. Just 'oscil-'.

_But he would know that excited scrawl anywhere._

He smoothed the wad of paper open, and began a slow steady cursing under his breath. It was a page torn out of a workbook, some kind of explanation on the first law of thermodynamics, and Megamind's handwriting filled the margins and covered the back of it. A crossed-out sketch of an 'oscillating trebuchet' was the largest drawing. There were doodles. And even a little drawing of Minion in the corner.

'Ronnie Jenkins' was written at the top.

He turned around. A young black woman was standing behind the counter. Ronnie was no where in sight and the garbage bag was gone.

“Can I help you?” the young woman asked, glancing up at him.

“Where is he?” Parker snapped. She blinked at him, startled by his angry tone.

“Ronnie,” Parker said. “Your co-worker. Where is he?”

She pointed vaguely toward the back room. “He...just left. His shift's over. He...wait a minute, you're not supposed to...”

Parker was already walking through the swinging doors marked 'Employees Only'. He went through the dimly lit room, past sagging shelves and a cleaning cart, and out the back. He stood there blinking for a moment, and saw Ronnie unlocking his car.

Parker walked swiftly over and grabbed the open car door. Ronnie, who had been about to climb in, looked up with wide eyes.

“Where is he?” Parker demanded.

Ronnie gave a nervous chuckle and looked down and off to the side. “I-I don't who you're talking about,” he said, his cheeks reddening. Parker held up the incriminating paper.

“This is Megamind's handwriting!” he said fiercely. “When was he here?”

Ronnie's mouth opened and closed a few times but nothing came out.

“You do know he's a minor, right?” Parker snapped. “And the whole damn police force is looking for him? That _I'm_ looking for him? Or don't you watch the news!”

He heard the sound of the station's back door squeaking open and looked over his shoulder. Ronnie's co-worker glared suspiciously out at them.

“You okay?” she asked, giving Parker a stern look. “You know this guy, Ronnie?”

“It's all right, Tanya,” Ronnie said quickly. “We're just talking.” Clearly, Ronnie would have been much happier being pretty much anywhere else, but he obviously didn't want his co-worker overhearing this conversation.

Tanya, still frowning, slowly closed the door and went back inside.

Another suspicion tapped at Parker's mind. “Is this your 'tutor'?” he growled. “What are you doing, paying him to help you with your homework?”

“He just _does_ it!” Ronnie burst out. “I asked him about a problem once, and he just did it all! And he's the one pay...” He stopped and grimaced, swallowing hard.

Parker stared at him, frowning. _“He's_ paying? Paying _you?_ For what? The honor of doing your homework?”

Ronnie shrugged and made an exasperated noise. “He just...you know...gives me a little money to not tell anyone that he stops here. He always pays for stuff. Never steals anything. The homework thing...” Ronnie shrugged and grimaced again. “He thinks it's funny.” And now a note of bitterness crept in. “It's easy for _him._ This one time, he said, 'Are you certain this is a college-level course? It does not seem very challenging. There's not even any mention of the...the Hindenburg Principle!'” Ronnie's impression was atrocious, but Parker could easily imagine Megamind scowling at a sheaf of pages, flipping through them with a superior sneer.

“Hindenburg Principle?” Parker said.

“Somethin' like that!” Ronnie cried. “I don't even know what he's talking about half the time!”

Parker looked at the creased page again. Curiosity reared its head. He struggled with himself, then gave in to the impulse.

“So...how...is the work coming along?” he asked. “Are your grades improving?”

Ronnie snorted. “Yeah. They're _too_ good! I have to go back and put in some wrong answers. Some of the profs were getting suspicious.”

Parker pressed his lips together in a thin line. Last year, after a tremendous amount of lecturing, badgering, and outright pleading, he convinced Megamind to take the GRE. Getting a high school diploma was so easily within the boy's reach. Any number of convicts had achieved this relatively simple step of improving their chances for a better life. And Parker begged him, _begged_ him, to put his _legal_ name at the top of the page, _just this once._ Otherwise the test wouldn't be valid. Writing 'John Doe' on a paper was not going to kill him.

Megamind capitulated, with a lot of groaning and eye-rolling.

It was arranged. Parker had wanted to observe, to make sure the boy behaved himself, but he didn't want to make the other test-takers nervous. Having one's warden in the room, sitting quietly in the corner, could put some convicts off their game. For some of these men, even the act of holding a pencil without breaking it was a monumental task, so Parker stayed away, but he heard the whole story later from one of the guards.

Megamind sat in the exam chair for several minutes, squirming, jiggling his leg, and drumming his fingers on the table. He twiddled the pencil, wagging it back and forth, and tapping it on the table, until a convict in the next seat told him to knock it off or he'd wrap the pencil around his scrawny neck.

The boy was motionless for a few moments. Then he scrawled 'Megamind' across the top of the page, in big block letters, and deliberately answered every single question wrong.

Some of the answers were really quite creative, and the obscene pictures in the margins were anatomically accurate, but of course the GRE was not the place to show off how creative you were, and so the boy failed.

And now, on a whim, because it no doubt amused him, Megamind was happily committing reckless acts of homework for this idiot. The fact that Ronnie was pre-law probably added to the hilarity.

Parker fixed Ronnie with a weary glare. “When did he last come in? Last night?”

Ronnie shuffled his feet a little and shook his head. “Naw. Couple nights ago. Maybe three,” he mumbled. “I was cleaning out my folder. He always draws all over my...”

“You must have realized that all the money he's giving you has been stolen,” Parker said. “Or did you think he'd saved it up from his paper route? And just how much are we talking about here? No, never mind, I don't even...” Parker sighed. Ronnie had gone paler than the snowflakes swirling around them.

“Are you going to call the cops? Am I in trouble?” Ronnie asked. His eyebrows were tilted up in a worried peak.

Parker rubbed his forehead. Tried to think. What would the police do, anyway? Arrest this idiot for knowingly receiving stolen money from an underage fugitive? Ronnie must be five or six years older than Megamind. Who was the adult here?

But people didn't think about that. Even the newscasters had stopped describing him as a runaway, or a teenage fugitive. Most people looked at Megamind and saw three things: blue, alien, dangerous. Which Megamind cheerfully exploited with gusto, especially the 'dangerous' bit.

Would the cops set up another useless stakeout? Parker had a feeling he'd pretty much used up all his influence over the case with his insistence on staking out the library.

“Do you have any idea where he is?”

Ronnie shrugged. He seemed to have an endless supply of shrugs. Perhaps he'd picked it up from Megamind. “He never says where he's going. Or Minion, neither.”

Parker was probably going to regret this...but...

After digging around in his pockets he found a scrap of paper. He wrote his name and phone number on it.

“The next time Megamind comes in, give me a call. Please,” he said, holding out the pathetic scrap. Ronnie very slowly lifted his hand and gripped it between thumb and forefinger as if it were a snake that might bite him. “I'm his father,” Parker added, to see if he could grind it into Ronnie's conscience a bit more.

“He doesn't really...they never stick around for very long,” Ronnie said. “And how am I gonna make a phone call without them noticing? Minion's _big._ ” Meaning, 'how am I going to make a phone call without Minion beating me up?'

Parker sighed. “Just do the best you can,” he said. He looked at Ronnie for a moment longer, then turned to go back into the station.

As he passed by the counter, Tanya was helping another customer at the cash register, but she shot Parker a narrow-eyed look as he went past.

He went back to the car and slid into the front seat.

“Couldn't you hold it until we got there?” Schmidt griped. “You're the one who...”

Parker showed him the paper bearing the marks of Megamind's vigorous hand. Schmidt's eyebrows shot up. “Well, how 'bout that,” he murmured. “My oh my.”

“Can you believe this?” Parker snapped, starting the car.

“I take it, based on your agitated state, that this did not just happen to fall out of your little genius' pocket? He has passed through then?” Schmidt asked dryly.

“He's been hanging out at that hole in the wall for who knows how long!” Parker cried. “That night clerk? The one with the messy hair? He's pre-law. Megamind's doing his homework!” He pressed down on the accelerator.

Schmidt grabbed onto the dashboard with his free hand. “Easy, easy there,” he murmured. “You want me to drive?”

“No!” Parker snapped.He eased off the gas. Traffic was pretty heavy, he didn't have much choice. A smattering of snowflakes clattered against the windows.

“Practically getting straight A's by the sound of it,” Parker said. “All this time! And that punk never said anything!”

The wind increased, pressing on the car like a giant hand. Parker clung grimly to the wheel to keep it from drifting onto the shoulder. Several car lengths ahead of them, a semi truck and trailer rocked in the gale.

Schmidt muttered, “I'll bet we'll hear about one a those rigs tipping over before the day's done.” He blew on his coffee and took a sip. “Pre-law,” he chuckled. “That's diabolical, that is. Well...he oughta fit right in with the other lawyers!”

“Who, Megamind or Ronnie?” Parker muttered.

Schmidt looked at the paper again. “Oscillating treb-ah-chet,” he read aloud. “Looks like a catapult to me.”

“It's a treb-you- _shay,_ ” Parker said. “It's different. Catapult uses a wind-up mechanism, I think. Trebuchet operates...” He waved his arm vaguely. “Some kind of a counter weight system.” Being Megamind's foster father, he'd picked up a lot of weird little bits of information over the years.

Schmidt frowned. “You don't think he's going to build one of these things, is he?”

Parker shook his head. “How should I know? He's always drawing things like that. But it's all crossed-out. Maybe he gave up on it.”

Schmidt nodded. “Well, just call Detective Buford. Let him decide what to do about it.”

Parker was silent. Schmidt glanced at him. “You are, aren't you?” he said sharply.

Parker glared at the road.

“Because, on account of, it might look kinda funny,” Schmidt said pointedly. “If you found out something about his whereabouts or activities, and failed to inform the authorities. You know?”

“What difference does it make!” Parker said. “Half of Metrocity knows something about 'his whereabouts and activities'! All those photographers. Are they going to arrest everyone who caught a glimpse of him?”

“It is because of your unique status, John,” Schmidt said. “If a prosecutor gets wind of it, he could make things real uncomfortable for you. Could make a case that you're aiding and abetting.” Schmidt looked out the window and took a bite from the bagel. “And you just said 'Metrocity', you know.”

“I did not,” Parker muttered. He glanced at Schmidt. “If...you could pretend you didn't see any...” He regretted showing the worksheet to Schmidt. He'd allowed his need to vent his frustration to overcome his judgment. It was possible that Schmidt might be held culpable as well.

Schmidt chuckled. “Me? I didn't see nothin'. I certainly did not see any signs of doodling that might have been done by a certain blue boy.” His face grew serious again. “I hope you're not thinking of camping out at that place, John. Even if you did run into him by some miracle, you will never convince him to turn himself in.” Both he and Parker knew that Megamind was the one who would need convincing. Minion would follow Megamind wherever he went, even into hell. Surely he would follow him back into prison.

“It might even be dangerous to confront him,” said Schmidt.

Parker glanced at him in surprise. “He...they wouldn't hurt me,” he said.

Schmidt shrugged. “He's gotten pretty bold, John. And you have a... complicated history. Who knows how he'd react? I wouldn't risk it. Just tell the cops,” Schmidt advised. “Don't give yourself an ulcer.”

Now it was Parker's turn to shrug. “I have to think about it.”

Schmidt sighed and took another slurp of coffee. He leaned over to turn on the radio. Country music filled the air.

They still had a little ways to go, giving Parker plenty of time to fill up with nagging questions. Why hadn't he ever thought about asking Minion if _he_ would like to take the GRE? Perhaps Minion would have liked a chance to prove himself. It probably would have goaded Megamind into actually finishing the damn thing, in the spirit of competition if nothing else.

_My wife is right,_ Parker thought glumly. _I do always forget Minion._

What was he going to do if Ronnie _did_ call him in the middle of the night to tell him that Megamind and Minion were at his gas station?

This was hopeless. Most likely, they would be gone by the time he got there. Or if they were there, Megamind would grin his crooked grin and say, “Oh, I don't think so, warden.” And leave. Maybe even shoot him. He didn't really believe that would happen, though.

_But what do I know? What he's capable of? So far as he's concerned, I'm the schmuck who's tried to keep him locked up his entire life,_ Parker chided himself. _He's not going to meekly follow me back._

“Gonna watch the game tonight? Come over to my place,” Schmidt said as they walked across the prison's parking lot.

“There’s a big storm on the way,” Parker said. “I’d rather not get stuck at your place for a week.”

“Eh, it’ll blow over.” Schmidt waved his hand as if to say storm warnings were for lesser mortals. “Stevens and Corky are comin' over too. Come on, it'll be great! Corky always roots for Wisconsin.”

Parker said, “I might have to go home around noon anyway, if the snow really does get that bad. Otherwise Joyce'll get upset.”

Schmidt downed the rest of his coffee and threw the cup into a wastebasket inside the door. Before he turned to go down the hallway that led to his office, he said, “Guess we'll see how it goes then. Have a good day. And keep your lawyer on speed dial.” With that cheerful bit of advice, they parted.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind finally put the game controller aside, only because his stomach was threatening to devour itself. His limbs were practically frozen into permanent sitting position. Creakily he straightened his arms above his head and stretched his back. These games were _addictive._

He rubbed his hands together. It was rather cold in here. Why was it so cold? He checked the space heaters. They were all on, and seemed to be functioning normally, but the cold was coming off the basement walls in a vindictive wave.

“Minion?”he called. He blew on his hands and went up the stairs to the main floor. He pulled the door open and a cloud of snowflakes blasted him in the face.

The main floor was a solid mass of white. Minion was using a piece of scrap metal to shovel an area around the van. Megamind's newly acquired vintage Mustang was half buried under a mound of snow.

“Thought that I would try to keep ahead of it a bit, Sir,” Minion said, voice strained as he struggled to shift the heavy snow. Megamind stepped out onto the floor. It was over his knees. He waded to the back door. The snow level got shallower as he got closer to the wall. He strode the last few steps and pulled the door open.

A waist-high wall of snow had built up against the door. He looked out at the whirling flakes. They were snowed in.

 


	14. Snowed In

The late winter storm was a test of Midwestern fortitude. If a major blizzard had to hit, they wondered, why did it have to happen now, when spring was just around the corner, instead of back in January or December when such storms were _supposed_ to occur? 

The storm closed airports across three states and Ontario. It snowed relentlessly for two days. Schools and government offices were closed. There were blackouts in some towns as the high winds blew over power lines. Gradually the snow eased, and stopped.

The streets were cleared and salted. Electrical crews fixed the downed poles, power was restored, and everyone hoped the worst was over.

But it was only a brief respite. Midwesterners tended to view bad winter weather as a nuisance, the price to be paid for living at northern latitudes. Many heeded the weather warnings and stayed put, but others attempted to return to their normal routines, out of desperation or recklessness, and so were caught out when the storm started up again.

Another foot of white death fell on Metro City and the surrounding countryside. The budding young hero of Metro City was kept busy rescuing people trapped in their cars on the highways, and even right in the middle of town. When the crews were at their wits' end trying to find new places to _put_ all the snow they were struggling to shift off the roads, Wayne Scott obligingly used an old dump truck to ferry mounds of the stuff out into the country, and out onto the frozen lake.

He didn't restrict himself to Metro City. Wayne flew all over the Midwest and Canada doing what he could to help. He hauled away trees that fell over roads. He rescued people from their homes when the roofs collapsed under the weight of the snow. He happened to be in the right place at the right time to catch a small private plane before it crashed to the ground, right on the edge of the storm system. The pilot was overconfident about his abilities and had underestimated the severity of the winds.

Wayne saved enough people to populate a small town, as well as six dogs, two cats, a herd of horses, and a very confused moose that wandered into downtown Grand Rapids. But even he couldn't be everywhere at once, and the storm caused the deaths of three people and injured dozens more, through accidents and exposure.

When it finally _really_ stopped snowing, the winds grew even worse, causing blowing and drifting snow to cover sidewalks and block doorways and windows. People had to find their cars by memory, because all the drifts along the curbs looked the same, but there was no need to search for buried cars because the streets were so thick with snow that hardly anyone could travel. The snow piled shoulder-high along streets, some of it the work of the plows, some of it courtesy of the winds. In some places it towered over people's heads, creating block after block of snow canyons.

Temperatures plummeted to arctic levels.

In the lair, the space heaters did their best, but the cold pressed in, bearing down from the ceiling and the walls. Whatever was closest to the space heaters received the benefit of the warmth. A sheen of frost glittered on surfaces on the perimeter of the basement. Winter was encroaching from all sides. The lair was turning into an ice palace.

Megamind wore grooves in the floor with incessant pacing. The video games lay idle, their appeal gone in the face of the catastrophe. He flickered through countless Internet sites, barely registering the words and images.

He rummaged around his half-finished inventions, tinkering here and there, muttering about not being able to find anything and wondering out loud when Minion was going to get the place organized.

Minion padded about the lair, always available, but edging away from the maelstrom of nervous energy as much as seemed prudent.

Currently, Megamind was sprawled across the couch, watching the latest weather report.

“...high pressure system here, which has stalled out over southern Ontario means we'll be seeing at least...hold on to your hats, folks...another four days of subzero temperatures.”

Megamind groaned so loudly that the rest of the weatherperson's words were obscured.

“Another. Four. Days,” he grated through his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fists against his head.

_I don't know. I really don't,_ Minion thought gloomily.  _What part of “I had to go to eight different stores” and “People really cleared off the shelves” did he not understand?_

The blizzard had taken Megamind completely by surprise. Minion knew it was a sort of tunnel vision. Sometimes Megamind got so focused on his projects that little insignificant details like massive deadly weather systems escaped his attention.

_Nope. What's a little snow?_ Minion grumbled to himself.  _He always leaves it up to me to get our food stockpiled, to make sure we have enough water..._

Minion looked at the gallon jugs that held their water supply, which were grouped around one of the space heaters. The rest were crowded into the fridge so they wouldn't freeze. He was not thrilled with being trapped indoors either, but at least he'd been mentally prepared for the possibility of a long...well, incarceration was as good a word as any. 

It was proving to be a much greater trial for Megamind, who hadn't. He'd gotten used to being able to come and go as he pleased, and now he was stuck.

“Looks like this is shaping up to be one of the worst cold snaps in Metro City's history!” the weather person announced with grim cheer. “Winds will be gusting at up to forty miles per hour. Exposed skin can get frostbitten in as little as ten minutes, so if you  _must_ go outside, bundle up. The temperature you see on the screen is the air temperature, folks! Yes, it really is 28 degrees below zero. With the wind chill, that's minus 45.”

The temperature guage on the screen blipped from -28 to -30.

Megamind tossed the remote onto the couch and got to his feet. He was wearing so many layers that his arms were pushed out from his sides. He had the parka on too, and even wore the hated hood. He meandered over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was immediately pushed shut by Minion.

“You had a snack ten minutes ago,” Minion said, holding the door closed with a straight arm.

“Get this appliance open immediately!” Megamind snapped.

“We need to conserve our food.”

“But you stocked up right before the storm hit,” Megamind said. Minion was mildly surprised. _So he was listening to me, a little bit,_ he thought.  _As I trudged up and down the stairs, hauling supplies._

“Yes, that's true, Sir, and you've eaten half of it already,” Minion said. “You're just bored.”

“Don't tell me what I am! Stand aside,” Megamind said, yanking on the door handle. Minion's feet were planted and it was like trying to shift a Buick.

Minion had prepared himself for this, and sucked in a huge breath of water to steady himself. “Sir, we really need to conserve food,” he repeated insistently.

Megamind gave Minion the full force of his disapproving glare. Minion avoided his gaze and stared at the wall, but he didn't budge. If Megamind ordered him to stand aside again, he didn't know if he'd be able to resist it. He trembled with the effort of disobedience.

“I  _could_ short-circuit you, you know,” Megamind said, narrowing his eyes. 

Minion bit his lip.

Abruptly, Megamind turned away and agitated around the room. He knew that Minion was right, but he would rather cut off his own arm than admit it. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together, looking for something to vent his frustration on. He stopped by the bookshelves and shuffled through the books.

“Too many books,” he muttered. He looked at one hefty tome and pulled it off the shelf.

“What is this!” he demanded. Minion came over to look at it. “ Vegetables of History ? How did this get in here?” 

Minion shrugged and grinned nervously. “I must’ve...scooped it up by accident, Sir.”

“Waste of space. I suppose we could always burn it for fuel when civilization comes to an end. Along with the granola,” Megamind grumbled. He snatched another suspicious book off the shelf.

“ Sewing for Dummies, ” he said. “Is this some sort of joke?”

Minion shifted uneasily. He'd been a bit puzzled at first by the book's title as well, but it had been in amongst the other “how-to” books, and the information it contained seemed straightforward.

“Oh, that! Well, I think the title is sort of a joke, but it's got some really good information in there, Sir,” he said. “There's a whole series of 'em, like,  Photography for Dummies ,  Cooking for Dummies ...”

“What's next,  Thinking for Dummies ? I think I get the picture,” Megamind said. “I'm surprised at you, Minion. It's positively insulting! You're no dummy. You shouldn't subject yourself to...” He paused, and cocked his head.

“What's that noise?” he asked.

Minion listened. Now that they were away from the TV, he could hear a bit of noise on the edge of his hearing.

“Dunno,” he said. “It sounds like whirring. Oh! It's coming from my chest.”

Megamind came close and put his ear against the front panel of Minion's robot suit for several seconds. Then he turned and went to the worktable.

“Come here, Minion,” he said. Minion dutifully trundled over. Using a screwdriver, Megamind removed the front panel. The whirring grew louder. Reaching into the core of the metallic chest, he moved aside a few coils of wire. It seemed to Minion that he stared into the cavity for a long time.

“I don't suppose you know how to hibernate, do you?” Megamind said in a rather distant voice.

“Um. No, I don't think so,” Minion said. “I never tried. Why?”

“Do you think you could learn? Really quickly?” he said.

\------

_ I should have run a complete diagnostic after the fight,  _ Megamind berated himself. The struggle with Freezer Burn must have put tremendous strain on Minion's temperature regulator and heating elements. One of the heating coils wasn't working at all and the other was sparking. It definitely should not be sparking. Now this massive, ongoing cold snap had overtaxed the whole heating system, and brought it to the end of its life. 

Megamind wished he had thought of a different phrase.

“How is it that I don't have a single condenser or heating coil in the entire place!” he shouted in frustration. He slammed the box down on the table. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared angrily at the scattered components. He should've started work on the new robot body by now. Constructing the core would have been the first step, and then he would've had all the parts on hand, including the parts for the heating system, and they wouldn't be in this mess. Minion wouldn't be in this mess.

Minion stood nearby, a hulking heap of misery. Hands clasped to the front of his bowl, he watched Megamind anxiously, trying not to hover. The whirring noise had taken on an unpleasant grinding overtone. Grinding noises were not a very good sign.

Megamind drummed his fingers on the table. He could cannibalize one of the space heaters for parts. It would be a stand alone system, though, and would be attached to Minion like a portable iron lung. And it would take some time to put together, hours, maybe even days.

There were a few more pathetic whirring sounds, and the temp regulator gave a final whine and died.

That was it, then. There wasn't time to build anything. Megamind dragged the touch-safe space heaters together. He arranged four of them in a rough semi-circle by the television, and got them all plugged in with extension cords.

“Come here,” he ordered. “Sit.”

Minion settled himself down in among the heaters, the island of warmth.

“There! Nothing to it. The heaters should kick out enough heat to keep your water in a liquid state,” Megamind said, nodding. “We just need to sit tight until...”

The lair went black.

“...the power goes out,” Megamind said.

\------

Minion shivered in his bowl. Megamind ordered him to stay put, and made his way across the lair by feel and went to get a flashlight out of the van. Minion saw the dim light at the top of the stairs as Megamind went out onto the main floor. Though the light from the main floor did little more than give a gray sheen to the top steps, Minion was glad that he had left the door open.

He knew that his water couldn't possibly be freezing already, but he imagined he could feel the temperature of the water slowly falling, degree by degree. The space heaters gave off gentle 'pok' sounds as they cooled. The wind howled. Snowflakes blew in through the gray rectangle at the top of the steps.

_ What's keeping him? He must be taking a look around,  _ Minion thought. And he thought about whiteouts, and how people could get lose their way in blinding snow, and freeze to death only feet from their own doors... 

Minion began to stand up, but then Megamind's shadow fell on the steps, the flashlight casting its light ahead of him. Relieved, Minion sat down again.

“How's it look out there, Sir?” he cried.

“The snow plows haven't been by,” Megamind said. The street they were on was not exactly a high priority for the work crews. They'd heard a plow go by only once, and that was yesterday. The high winds had blown huge drifts back over the road, and it was as impassable as if the plow had never been there.

“I can dehydrate the snow in the alley and we could make it to the street, but I don't know how well it would go, if I have to hang out the window, dehydrating snow from our path all the way down the streets.” He shook his head. Frostbite, exposure, why, he'd freeze solid. Even this brief venture into the outdoors made his bones ache, as if his coat and many layers offered no protection at all. And he had no idea how far the power outage extended. The nearest store where Megamind could hope to find the necessary components for a new temp regulator was miles away. A mere jaunt, if the roads were clear. But who knew how many hours it would take now?

They could sit in the car or the van, heaters running. The factory was so big, and the hole in the roof offered plenty of fresh air, hah, it did indeed, there was not much fear of them dying of carbon monoxide poisoning. Until the gas ran out, and they'd be in the same fix as before.

He walked over to Minion. “I think I can cobble together a backup generator, but it's going to take a while.” He paused and looked Minion in the eye. “I'll have to dehydrate you,” he said.

Minion waved his fins and turned his little worried eyes to Megamind. “But...I don't...you'll be alone. I want to help,” he said miserably.

“You're not going to be any help when you turn into a popsicle!” Megamind snapped. “How am I supposed to keep you from freezing? With my winning personality? I can get it done, Minion. Once it's completed, I'll rehydrate you.”

“But out of what? We don't have any engines, except...” Then Minion remembered. “Oh. Um. The van, or the new one? But how will you get the engine down here? You have to at least let me carry it down here for you, Sir!”

Megamind nodded.

Even working as quickly as they could to unbolt the engine from Megamind's beautiful new Mustang (despite being the older vehicle, the previous owner had kept it in top-notch shape, and it was in better condition than the van's engine), frost thickened on Minion's dome and he was shivering by the time it was detached. Minion's joints creaked as he hoisted the engine in his arms. He walked carefully down the steps into the lair. It posed no real physical strain on him, since the robot body was doing all the work, but he had to concentrate all the same.

“Put it there, Minion,” Megamind said. Minion set it on the floor. “Why, just think! It'll seem like no time at all has passed when I rehydrate you, and the lair will be cozy once again!” He smiled encouragingly, and Minion did his best to smile back.

“Just remember to eat when you're hungry, Sir,” he said, when Megamind raised the de-gun.

Megamind sighed and let his arm fall to his side. “All right, Minion. Now then...”

“But try not to sleep,” Minion said quickly, as the de-gun was pointed at him again. “I've heard where people go to sleep and don't wake up when...”

“Minion,” Megamind growled. Minion shut his mouth.

“Okay, I'm ready, Sir,” he said, and Megamind shot him.

He didn't get to work right away. He picked up the cube from the floor and sat down on the couch for a minute, in the dark, cradling it in his hand. It was silly, but he didn't want to leave it sitting around. He put it into his coat pocket, and felt a little better for having Minion close.

He rolled up his sleeves, figuratively speaking, and got to work.

\-----

Megamind retrieved more flashlights from the van and arranged them around the work space. He labored to take apart the engine and transform it into something that would save their lives. He had to pull his gloved hands into his sleeves and clamp them against his body at regular intervals until the ache went away and he could hold the tools again.

He took breaks for food and water, though he didn't feel much like eating. The flashlights began to burn out. He had to search the lair for more batteries. He nodded off a couple of times, standing up, and awakened when his head bounced off the engine block.

Building a fire for warmth began to seem less like a joke and more like a good idea but he had a gnawing fear that he would doze off in front of the warm flames and never wake up again.

It was lonely work, with only the flashlights for company, and no TV or radio or Minion to talk and complain to.

The howling wind gradually ceased, but by then he was too absorbed in the work to take much notice.

\-----------

When it was complete, he rehydrated Minion.

The backup generator sat in the middle of the room, growling like a mechanical tiger. There was a crystalline frost over every surface in the lair. Moisture dripped off the space heaters as they began to warm up again. The TV chattered and glowed in the background. Megamind was going around the lair, turning all the lights on. All that time in the dark had left him hungry for light. He planned to gorge on it.

Megamind wiped his greasy face with a towel. There were circles under his eyes. There was a brittle tension in the air that suggested to Minion that fussing and coddling would not be welcome at the moment, so he turned his attention to the generator.

“Ooo, nice work, Sir! Fantastic remodeling. I like how you arranged the pulleys.”

Megamind straightened a little under the praise. “Naturally, Minion, it's a marvel of engineering, if I do say so myself.”

Minion inspected the generator again. “What are you using for fuel?”

Megamind pointed. “Look down into the top.”

Minion leaned over to take a look. The BINKEY from the de-gun glowed within.

“Oh, Sir!” he cried in distress. “First your new car, and now your gun?”

“Don't get all weepy,” Megamind said. “I can easily remove it when I need to, and put it back in the de-gun.” He gestured to where the gutted weapon lay on a work table.

Then the newscast from the TV came to his attention.

“...has been shot! Confirmed reports that the man claiming to be responsible for this deadly storm was taken out by a sniper less than an hour ago.”

Megamind sank slowly down onto the couch. The television cut to a scene showing a snow-covered street in a residential area, a row of one-story houses. A car and two trees were smoldering the the snowy street, and there were numerous police cars, fire engines, and assorted emergency personnel milling around. The caption on the bottom of the screen read “Des Moines, Iowa.”

“A woman and two children believed to be the Weather Wizard's estranged family were removed from the house, unharmed. The mayor of Des Moines was...”

“Weather Wizard?” Megamind said, perplexed. “What is all this?” How many days had passed?

Now they were showing footage of the man himself. A man in a padded jacket was standing on a roof. He was having some difficulty maintaining his balance, and his scraggly beard streamed in the wind. He was shouting at someone down in the street, but his words were blown away. Megamind frowned. If this bozo had really started the storm, he didn't seem to be in control of it any longer. The figure on the roof shuffled around shaking his fist, his feet digging furrows in the deep snow. As he turned toward the microphones, they could pick up some of his tirade.

“How do you like me now, Gabby? This enough potential for ya? Huh! This enough? How do you like me now?” he screamed. There was some more unintelligible shouting from a megaphone off camera, and the man turned toward the sound. He straightened as much as the buffeting winds would allow, and raised his arm. Electricity crackled around his clawed hand, and the picture shook and wobbled as the camera man and everybody else took cover, but the camera still managed to capture it when the electrical charge shot out of the Weather Wizard's hand and struck a tree, splitting it in two. The Weather Wizard waved his arms wildly and almost fell off the roof.

Megamind shook his head. What an idiot! He was so clearly out of control.

They cut back to the anchorwoman. “After taking his family hostage, the Weather Wizard demanded five million dollars, and safe passage to Mexico. Unresponsive to police negotiators, and under the advice of an undisclosed government agency, the decision was made to call in the sniper. The Weather Wizard's real name is Philip Larsen. He is in serious condition, and under heavy guard, at the hospital. His ex-wife, Gabby Larsen, is being questioned by police, and was unavailable for comment.

“Based on the opinions of several meteorologists, it is now believed that it is highly unlikely that Philip Larsen could have been responsible for this massive snowstorm.”

They cut to a somber, weasel-faced man, tie askew. “Iowa is much too far away from the storm center,” he declared in a voice drier than ten thousand year old paper. “And I think that once this so-called Weather Wizard was taken out, the storm system would have dissipated! This obviously did not happen. I think what we have here is someone trying to take credit where it definitely is  _ not  _ due, and attempting to profit off other people's misery. Despite his ability to control lightning, I seriously doubt...”

“He wasn't controlling lightning, you moron!” Megamind cried, waving his arms at the TV. “He was producing electricity! Either from his own electromagnetic field or from a device hidden under his clothes! Idiot. They're all idiots.” He slumped back in the couch, scowling.

“Thank you, Dr. Wiley. This incident has ignited a lot of debate about the best way to deal with dangerous super-powered individuals. And now a message from Senator Traut of Colorado.”

A scowling pasty man appeared on the screen. “It's my understanding that this Philip Larsen has had this ability since childhood, but hardly anyone knew about it! How do we know who has these powers and who doesn't? They're undetectable by metal detectors. Some super-powered nut could sneak in anywhere!”

Megamind rolled his eyes. “I'm sure every criminal and terrorist in the world has just gotten a few bright ideas about now,” he said with a sneer. “Nice job, Senator Troutface. I can see why those “Dummies” books are so popular, Minion.”

“...proposing we initiate a nation wide registration program for these 'supers',” the senator was saying. “So that we know exactly who is who. I'm sure the good people of Iowa would back me on that.”

“The American Civil Liberties Union has called the proposal unethical, and claims that it is an invasion of privacy,” said the anchorwoman.

A different woman, her hair tied back in a severe bun, appeared onscreen, clearly annoyed. “What does Senator Traut suggest? That we test every child in the nation? That we slap a big 'S' on everyone who has super powers? Or maybe we could just use big yellow stars like the Nazis.”

They cut back to the anchorwoman. “Senator Traut's office released a statement saying that the reference to Nazi Germany was uncalled for and in very bad taste, and that the Senator has deep concerns for the welfare of the nation. The President is expect...”

Megamind turned the channel. “Go without power a couple of days and you miss everything,” he muttered. He flipped rapidly through several stations. Something caught his attention and he quickly flipped back.

It was a picture of Wayne Scott, smiling big. Megamind perched on the edge of the couch, leaning on his knees.

“After clearing away downed trees and branches that had blown over Lakeview Drive, Metro City's own hometown hero had a surprise announcement.”

Wayne was standing in some hallway or other, talking into a microphone. “Well, I just thought, hey, a lot of guys are called Wayne, you know, and maybe, you know, it was time for a change, time for something catchy, you know?”

“We all know! Get on with it!” Megamind snapped.

“I thought a good, catchy name was needed, you know, so from now on, when I'm, you know, working, and somebody needs my help they can call on me. They can call on Metro Man.” And Wayne flashed a smile at the camera.

Megamind's mouth fell open. He and Minion looked at each other. Minion's eyebrows were at the top of his head. “Well, how 'bout that,” he said, and sniffed.

“Metro Man,” Megamind said with a sneer. “How original.”

“Why not Metro Boy?” the reporter asked.

Wayne shrugged and chuckled. “Well, I'll be a legal adult in about...” he paused, turned his head to the side a little. His lips moved.

“Eighteen months, you big lummox!” Megamind yelled.

“A little less...than...two years,” Wayne said. “I wanted to keep it simple. When I come of age I'd have to change it. I don't want to confuse the public, you know.”

“Because goodness knows they're confused enough!” Megamind said, snorting in derision. “Why, a big change like that would have them scratching their heads for months! 'Whatever happened to Metro Boy? And who's this Metro Man?'”

Minion snickered at the impression. “I'll bet he's copying you, Sir,” he said loyally. “With the double 'M'? Ha!”

The reporter asked, “And how do your parents feel about this?”

Wayne's smile slipped a bit. He shrugged and said, “Uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well...”

Megamind turned the TV off. “What time is it?” he demanded. “What  _ day  _ is it?” Without waiting for an answer he got to his feet and stormed around the room, gathering clean clothes. “Where's my go-to-get-clean bag?” The bag held Megamind's toothpaste, soap and shaving kit. He shaved twice a week whether he needed it or not. More often not, but it was good to keep up the habit. This depended on how often he could get to a working bathroom. Trying to shave in a mixing bowl with ice cold water had long ago lost its charm.

Laboring over that makeshift generator had produced a thin layer of grime on his person, seemingly  _ everywhere,  _ in complete disregard of the fact that the lair had become so cold that even penguins would freeze. It was so utterly, abominably  _ cold.  _ Couldn't his darn sweat glands understand that?

He wanted a  _ shower. Now.  _

“The second that street is cleared, Minion, we are  _ going,  _ I don't care if it's high noon, I am filthy, and grimy, and...”

He stopped in the middle of the floor and turned his head, listening. Minion could hear it, too. It was the sound of a truck, and the steady scrape of a heavy piece of metal dragging along the ground. Megamind's face broke into a smile.

“The plow!” he shouted excitedly. Laughing, he grabbed Minion's arms and twirled him around a couple times.

“Let's get that alley cleared!” Megamind cried, dashing for the de-gun. Minion caught him as he flew by and wrapped him in a bear hug, but carefully.

“Wait, wait, wa-a-a-a-ait,” he said, grinning. “At least let the plow go by, Sir.”

And so they waited for another interminable two hours, to give the snow plow time to finish its first pass down the street, and to come back around to clear the other side, Megamind threatening to dehydrate Minion again, but in a good-natured sort of way.

\----

It was a little after nine o'clock at night when it was safe to emerge. Megamind turned off the generator, removed the BINKEY, and reassembled the de-gun. He nearly froze, blasting the wretched snow of the alley, but it gave him a great deal of satisfaction. Minion edged the van forward bit by bit, as Megamind exacted vengeance on the snow drifts.

They made it to the cleared street, and roared off into the frigid night. Tendrils of loose snow trickled across the streets.

\----

Their first stop was the Electro Shack. They had forgotten the key-o-matic in all the excitement of being freed from the lair, so Megamind picked the lock, scooped up the components while the alarm blared, and got out.

In the back of the van a good distance away, Megamind fitted Minion with a new regulator and replaced the heating system.

The next item was to locate a suitable place for Megamind to shower, before he drove Minion crazy.

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Shower Quest

The burning dormitory blazed merrily. Flames blazed on two midlevel floors on one side of the building. Smoke poured out of the windows.

“Wow, and we didn't even do anything,” Minion muttered.

They sat in the van and watched the bonfire from behind a mountain of snow. The university campus was swarming with displaced students, police officers, and firefighters.

“Maybe we can use this to our advantage,” Megamind said, brightening. “Our objective is the gymnasium. We could still sneak around back while everyone is out here looking at the blaze.”

“No, I think they're sending people there, to get them out of the cold,” Minion said, watching the shivering, hunched students straggling along.

Then people began shouting, and pointing skyward, and an enormous cistern swung through the air. Wayne was barely visible underneath it. Metro Man.

He flew higher above the inferno. He tilted the cistern and the slow stream of water landed on the flames with a dull roar. Geysers of smoke poured into the night sky. People cheered and clapped.

Megamind made a face. “Showoff,” he muttered. He slumped in his seat. “Well, I'm not going to Wally's Workout World again! That place'll give me athlete's foot.”

Minion scratched his dome. “Um....there's the trucker's stop on Highway 23. No?” Megamind pressed his lips together and shook his head.

On the campus, Wayne had set the cistern down. People surged toward him, laughing and talking.

“Let's try the high school,” Megamind said.

\- - - - - - - - -

But the scene at the high school was busy too, though for a different reason. A volleyball tournament had just been completed. Despite the difficult driving conditions, the weather was deemed passable, and the game had already been postponed once because of the storm. The schools had been reopened that day, so the game had gone ahead.

There were a lot of people hanging around, braving the frigid temperatures. Even the most austere conditions can seem routine after a while, and the citizens of Metro City had been cooped up indoors for the better part of a week. In truth, the weather had moderated; it was 1 degree, the first time it had been above zero for days. This was an opportunity to get outside and socialize.

Megamind practically had a fit.

“Why don't these people go home!” he exclaimed. “It's freezing out here, you idiots! Your stupid event is over, obviously, or you wouldn't all be wasting your time standing around jawing! Go home!” This was intolerable! Lack of sleep had stripped his patience to bare wires. And he was  _ itching. _ He squirmed in his seat.

On a different night he might have felt dejected, seeing the other teens joking around with their friends, gravitating around their parents and siblings. On another night he might have felt a stab of poignancy, knowing he would forever be an outsider. But not tonight. Tonight these dolts were all that stood between him and cleanliness.

He felt no relationship at all with these teenagers and their parents and siblings. The gawky, over-sized boys who went around with their jackets flapping open and punching each other on the arms, the shrill-voiced girls chewing gum, who shrieked and complained about the cold, but made no sign that they were going to move on into warmer environments.

Megamind watched the festivities for a little while longer, then made an executive decision. “Move the van around back,” he ordered.

“Oh, I don't know, I think maybe...” said Minion nervously.

“I'm just going to take a look,” Megamind said. “Drive.”

They drove around the block and approached the high school from a back street. Megamind gathered his kit and slipped out into the icy night. There was, indeed, no one around the back, though the sounds of talk and laughter that drifted over from the front parking lot made Minion extremely nervous.

There was a single excessively bright light that illuminated the parking lot. The door that Megamind had chosen was in such a deep recess it was like a cave, and about as dark.

Megamind worked at the lock with a pick. Minion fidgeted.

“Hold that flashlight steady,” Megamind said. “We would be inside by now if  _ somebody  _ hadn't forgotten the key-o-matic.” 

“How do we know the locker rooms are empty? I don't think they clean them very well here, either, Sir, can't you get athlete's foot somewhere else? I really think...”

  
“I will do the thinking here, Minion,” Megamind murmured, turning his attention back to the lock. His gloved fingers ached with cold. He pulled them into his ghastly sleeves and clenched them into fists to get a little blood flowing.

He was sick of giving way, of skulking and sneaking around, of waiting for ordinary schmucks to finish their business so he could just do something as normal as get a shower once in a while. The weight of the de-gun was a comforting presence in his coat pocket, within immediate reach. He had foregone the holster this time because of all the excessive layers of clothing. Getting to the de-gun under all that could take upwards of half an hour.

_ Any janitors or loiterers around, they are  _ _ **cubed,** _ he thought to himself, reaching for the lock again.

The burst of high-pitched laughter made him whirl around. Minion clicked off the light.

A gaggle of girls hove into view, chattering, their breaths making clouds in the frosty air. Five of them. They gathered by a low metal fence and settled in.

Megamind and Minion stood rigid with alarm. He couldn't even keep working on the door. It wasn't that noisy, but they might hear the little snickety sounds of metal on metal. And once he got it open, he felt a grim certainty that it would creak loudly enough to wake the dead. In accordance with the ancient laws of the hidden, he began to itch worse than ever. He itched in places he didn't even know he had.

“Now what, Sir?” Minion whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Megamind grimaced and shook his head a fraction. The light must be in the girls' eyes, but it was possible they would catch a movement, and he and Minion would be spotted. Could he shoot all five of them at once? Highly doubtful. The commotion would be tremendous.

Then one of the hooded girls turned to one of her friends, smiling and laughing, and all the blood rushed to his ears.

It was  _ Her. _

He couldn't see her lovely braid, but he recognized the girl he'd crashed into outside the Chinese restaurant, her square features softly rounded by her hood.

It was the first time he heard Her Voice.

“Cheryl, you're such a ditz!” the girl giggled. “Polly wouldn't do that!”

“She did! I saw her,” Cheryl replied.

“Prove it,” the girl said.

“Yeah, get some pictures,” one of the others chimed in. The girls shrieked with laughter.

A blue Camaro with no muffler roared to a halt by the curb. A boy leaned out the passenger side and brayed “Hey, wanna party? I got it right here, girls!”

“Kiss my ass, Browning!” one of the girls yelled.

“Yeah, Brown-noser!”

“Up yours!”

“You wish! Loser!”

“Screw you!”

Megamind's hand gripped the handle of the de-gun. Minion creaked slightly as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Those were  _ fightin'  _ words. If they were in the prison yard, guys would be making a circle around the contestants. Sometimes a fight could happen so fast there wasn't even time for that. The loser could be looking for his teeth in a matter of seconds. 

What if those boys attacked? He felt a strange compulsion to defend the girls. Those boys were obviously scumbags! The girls might need protection from those ne'er-do-wells. Where this impulse of chivalry came from he couldn’t have said.

No one was moving in for the kill, even though some major insults were getting thrown around. There must be some different rules in effect here.

He remembered what it had been like among the kids back at the Lil' Red Shoolhouse. Come to think of it, girls hadn't been much given to actual physical contact there either. The teacher didn't allow real fighting to take place... much...though Megamind had learned at great cost that there were countless other sneaky little ways to inflict pain. Girls tended to make scathing remarks, while boys were more likely to sucker punch.

After a final insult of "Lesbos!" the Camaro took off with a screech of tires.

The girls returned to their huddle, trading their views on the boys in the Camaro, all of them negative.

But Megamind was unable to pay much attention, because another matter began to make its presence felt, with increasing urgency.

“Minion, I have to go to the bathroom,” he whispered.

“What,  _ now? _ ”

“Yes, now! Well...soon. Why do you think I brought it up?” Megamind hissed.

Minion gave an annoyed little exhalation. “I swear, Sir, your bladder's shrunk.”

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Self-cleaning-bowl! Some of us have to plan how to take care of these little matters! I've been holding it in for six hours!” Megamind whispered through gritted teeth.

“You should've gone at the lair.”  
“I hate those buckets! I thought we'd have visited a bathroom by now!”

“Well, what's the plan?” Minion said wearily.

Megamind huffed out a breath. So much for not creating a commotion. He had to get out of there. He stabbed a finger at Minion. “You, my scaly friend, yes  _ you,  _ will go out there and scatter those females, at once!”

“What? Why me?” Minion whispered eyes wide.

“Because I said so!” Megamind said. The truth of the matter was he was aware of how grimy he was. He was sure that he looked ridiculous in his too-big coat with its fuzzy hood. He hadn't much cared for Minion's snide remark about shrinking bladders, either. And besides,  _ She  _ was there. The thought of her turning those big eyes on him in his current state made his stomach do a slow turn. Which was stupid. It made no sense. But his heart was thudding as if it were the first night he'd stepped out the prison gate.

“Get out there right now! That is an  _ order _ , Minion!” Megamind set his jaw.

Minion winced. He looked over at the girls to see if maybe they were getting ready to disperse on their own, but no such luck. He sighed, and put on his 'monster' face, and lumbered out with a growl.

Commotion does not even begin to describe the uproar.

Though in later years Megamind would become an expert at inciting terror in the populace, that night at the high school taught him one important caveat. If you are within twenty feet of a group of teenage girls,  _ do not  _ make them scream, especially if you are standing within a confined space and are not wearing high-quality ear plugs.

He and Minion somehow made it back to their vehicle, hearts pounding like jackhammers. They drove in silence for a while.

Megamind rubbed his ears. “How many decibels do you think that was?”

“I can't believe there were only five,” Minion said, shaking himself in his bowl. “Sounded like five hundred. All of them screaming.”

“Not all of them screamed, Minion,” Megamind said, scowling. “ _ She  _ didn't. She might have gasped a little.”

Minion frowned a bit. How could he tell?

“Which one?” he asked.

“Wasn't it obvious?” Megamind cried. “The girl from the restaurant!”

“What restaurant?”

Megamind scoffed. “What do you mean 'what restaurant'? The girl with the purple coat that had the little pink daisies, and the buttons on the sleeves, and the matching purple boots with the ridiculous fake fur trim, I don't know why they have to slap a bunch of fuzzy fur on everything, those manufacturers aren't fooling anybody, and the coat went down to her, um, below her, um, waist, and she had that little mole on her jawline, and her bangs kept getting in her eyes.”

He paused. Minion was staring at him. “What?” he snapped.

Minion blinked and tore his gaze away. “Nothing. Nothing, Sir,” he said, looking back at the road, all business.

_ That was...a lot of detail,  _ Minion thought. There was another extended silence. Minion turned on the radio.

“I know where to go,” said Megamind. “No more skulking!” He gave Minion instructions and turned to glare out the window.

“I just wish I knew what her name was,” he muttered under his breath. Not that it mattered. At all.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - 

Gladys took another cigarette out of her pack and lit it. The TV droned and flickered in the background. The Late Late Show was on. She wasn't that interested in the guests that night, but she kept the TV as much out of habit as for company. The neon light of the hotel gleamed red through the fractured frost of the window. Her boyfriend Ralph snored on the couch.

She was thumbing through yesterday's newspaper when the doorbell in the lobby jingled. She heaved herself to her feet and walked out to the counter, taking a drag off the cigarette and blowing smoke in the air. She considered the couple who had entered.

No luggage, though one held a satchel. Hmph. Probably just wanted a room for an hour. Well, they could damn well pay for the whole night.

They were completely covered with swathes of hoods and scarves. They hovered inside the doorway of the cramped lobby. The bigger one nudged the other in the back. The smaller figure smacked him in the torso with a rather unusually loud 'thunk'.

Gladys pursed her lips and tapped the cigarrette on the edge of the ashtray. “Well, are you comin' in or what?” she said.

The shorter one...that must be the gal... leaned forward a bit, then walked across the carpeting to the desk.

The gal cleared her throat and said “A room for...cough...the night, how much do I owe you?” in a voice quivering all over the place.

Gladys' face didn't move a muscle. Not a woman, then. But not a  _ man _ either. Her eyes moved briefly to the silent, hulking figure in the doorway. 

Kid was probably a runaway.

“You need two beds or one?” she asked. She looked at the boy's swathed face and tried to see into the darkness of the hood without being too obvious about it. The scarf covered him pretty well. All she could make out were a couple of bright eyes, blinking and darting around. The boy took half a step back from the counter.

“Um...just...one...I guess,” the boy said uncertainly.

_ I knew it,  _ Gladys thought in grim satisfaction. Well, who was she to judge? Actually, she judged people all the time. This world was a den of sin and vice, but it wasn't any of her business, as long as they paid in full. She told him the price and he pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. She didn't bat an eye at that, either. He peeled off a few bills.

“Room 210. Checkout's at noon. Sign here,” she said, pushing the sign-in book toward him. The boy was shifting his weight from foot to foot.  _ Nerves,  _ thought Gladys.  _ Maybe hasn't decided what name to use. Should've thought about that ahead of time, sonny.  _

The boy twirled the pen around in his fingers, then leaned over the book and wrote furiously. He slapped the pen down and yanked his arm back like he was afraid she was going to grab him. 

“Have fun, boys,” she said, handing over the key. The boy snatched the key, clenching it in his fist.

“Uh...okay?” he said, then he whirled and went up the stairs. Gladys stared at the silent big man who followed him. She was not surprised that he avoided her eyes.

_ Yeah, I know your type, _ she thought, exhaling a stream of smoke.  _ Don't want me to see your face, huh? Making the kid pay for this little rendezvous? Makes me sick.  _

She pulled the sign-in book toward her and looked at the name.  _ John Parker. Hmph. Might as well be John Smith. And if that's a real address, I'll eat the ashtray.  _

She went back into her office and settled down to read the paper again. She turned the pages. Her boyfriend snored gently on the sofa. There was a blare of laughter from the TV, but she still caught the sound of the bell jingling again, ever so slightly. It sounded  _ just like  _ the sound of someone doing their best to open the lobby door as quietly as possible. 

Eyes narrowed, she hurried out to the front desk again. She was just in time to catch a glimpse of a couple of guys slipping up the stairs.

She recognized the first one! That bum Terence! Sneaking his junkie friend in!

Furious, she flounced back to the office. She'd warned them! She picked up the phone and called the police. She drew the line at drug dealers. Her place would go downhill in no time if she started letting their kind in.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Once inside the room, Megamind shed his coat and several layers of clothes like a maddened whirling dervish and crashed into the bathroom. Minion pulled off his hood and unwrapped his scarves. He was not happy about this, not at all. He did not like the way that hotel manager had scrutinized them. Awkwardly he began dragging at one of the sleeves of the coat. It kept catching on his elbow joint. He wasn't used to clothes. Somehow he got it off without ripping it, which he was tempted to do more than once, but he would need it so they could sneak out of here again.

He looked down at the trousers that hid his robotic legs. It had taken a bit of doing to get them on. He felt a little ridiculous, but he supposed he'd better leave them on.

The sound of a TV drifted through the thin wall. Minion could hear the sounds of people talking from a room right above them, their voices punctuated by brief bursts of laughter.

The toilet flushed and Megamind came out beaming with relief and smug satisfaction.

“What did I tell you, Minion? Smooooooooth,” he said, moving his arm through the air as if he were smoothing out a bedsheet.

“I don't like it,” Minion grumbled.

Megamind 'tch'-ed and rolled his eyes. “So sorry this isn't the Hilton,” he said. “But...” He flopped over the room's creaking heater. “....it's waaaaaaarm.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

“I still don't like it,” Minion said. “And I don't think she thought we were father and son, Sir.”

“I know exactly what she was thinking, Minion. Who cares? It's not against the law for two men to rent a hotel room.

“But, if you're going to be a worrywart, you can stand guard at this handy window here.” With a flourish, he whipped back the heavy tattered curtain. “It overlooks the street.”

“Sir! Someone'll see!” Minion said, yanking the curtain closed again.

Grinning, Megamind turned to go to the bathroom. “Now, I am going to take a shower, and I'm not coming out until every drop of hot water on the  _ block  _ is gone.”

He slammed the door behind him with gusto.

Just his luck, it was a slow night for the Metro City Police Department. In response to Gladys' call, they responded in short order.

\- - - - - - - - 

Megamind was seriously considering sleeping in the shower. He'd been so cold it felt like his  _ bones  _ were frozen. The hot water was thawing him out.

A metal arm reached through the shower curtain and turned it off.

“There had better be,” Megamind said, “an  _ extremely  _ good...”

“Sir, the police are here!”

Dripping and furious, Megamind clutched the towel around his waist and went to the window.

A squad car was parked on the street. “You have GOT to be kidding me!” he shouted.

He scrubbed off with the towel vigorously. Still damp, he yanked his clothes on while Minion opened the door a crack and listened.

“Sir, I can hear the manager! She said something about the second floor! I think they're coming up!”

Pulling on his boots, Megamind hopped out into the hall. Minion grabbed their coats and scarves, and made a flustered effort to get all of the scattered clothes. Time was of the essence. Megamind hadn't bothered trying to put all of his many layers back on, but had made do with one shirt and pair of pants. There were too many garments. Trembling, arms full of coats, he joined Megamind in the hall. The sound of footsteps came from the stairwell.

Megamind raised the de-gun.

“Sir, check the setting!” Minion whispered, suddenly uneasy. “What's it set on?”

Megamind didn't bother answering. He noticed, with a vague detachment, that the gun did not shake at all. The night of their escape seemed a very long time ago. The de-gun was an extension of him now. He knew exactly which setting it was on.

Gladys came out of the stairwell first, sifting through a bunch of keys in her hand. She took two more steps and looked up. At the sight of Megamind she gasped and froze. The cop behind her was equally surprised. Two pairs of wide eyes confronted him.

Megamind shot the cop. The cube dropped to the thin gray carpet, and there was a small yelp and a lot of banging and crashing as the second officer fell down the stairs. Gladys flattened herself against the wall as Megamind dashed past. Minion followed.

The other cop was lying on the first landing, face contorted in pain, holding his arm. Megamind jumped over him on his flight down.

“Wait, Sir! You should get him too!” Minion yelled. The sound of pounding feet was the only reply. Minion stopped by the stricken cop, leaned down and took the gun from his holster.

“Stay there,” he ordered. The cop didn't look to be in any shape to follow, anyway. Minion hurried down, coats in one hand, gun in the other.

From above, Gladys found her voice and began screaming. Megamind was darting around the lobby in a flurry of impatience. A voice from the hotel's office thundered, “Gladys? What's the matter?”

“Come on, come on, hurry up, slowpoke!” Megamind cried. He pushed out into the freezing night.

Minion shouldered the frost-covered door a little too hard and the glass cracked. “Oops,” he muttered.

He joined Megamind on the sidewalk, who had stopped by the squad car.

The police car was idling.

They glanced at each other. The car chugged, waiting.

“I'm driving,” Minion said, surging around the front bumper.

Megamind leaped over the hood. “No, I am!” he shouted. Cackling, he yanked the door open and jumped behind the wheel.

“Wha-? No fair!” Minion cried. He hurried back around to the passenger side. He barely got in before Megamind hit the gas. They tore down the street with a squeal of tires.

“Where's the sirens? Turn 'em on! Full speed ahead!” Megamind shouted. Minion found the switch, and they blared along the road at full intensity.

“Did you see them? The looks on their faces?” Minion laughed. “That was awesome!”

Megamind opened the window and leaned out into the arctic air. “Eat my dust, Metrocity!” he yelled, and laughed long and hard.

He pulled his head back in, rolled up the window, and they roared off into the night.

\- - - - - - 

The two officers who had answered the call at the hotel were suspended for leaving their car in a vulnerable position. And they were the butt of their colleagues' jokes for many weeks thereafter, for general idiocy.

\- - - - - -

Parker trudged up the stairs. The ending of the cold snap had not brought an end to his troubles. His wife was not doing well. She was drifting, wandering around the house like a ghost. Sometimes she didn't even get out of bed until noon. Her doctor prescribed a new medication, but he warned him to keep an eye on her.

“Morning, Andrew,” he said to his assistant, but his eyes were on the two men waiting in the reception area.

One of them overwhelmed the chair. Everything about him was blocky, from his head to his squat legs. The other was a clean-cut man with a strong jaw. He stood up in one smooth movement. The blocky man got up somewhat more ponderously.

Clean-cut took out his badge to show Parker and gave him a slight smile. “Mr. Parker? I'm Agent Ed Corbin, Department of Paranormal Investigations.” They shook hands. Parker restrained a grimace. Agent Corbin was the sort who equated 'a firm handshake' with 'a bone-crushing grip.'

“This is my partner, Agent Leroy Bates.” Bates also shook hands, but made no attempt at a smile. At least he didn't try the bone-crushing maneuver.

“May we have a few minutes of your time? I have some questions about your foster son,” said Agent Corbin.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But wait!" you are thinking. "Wouldn't the water in the cistern be frozen?" And you would be right to think that. The answer is that Metro Man used his laser vision to melt the water before he poured it onto the fire, but there didn't seem to be a way to work it into the narrative.
> 
> Or maybe you are not thinking that at all, but are wondering what Agent Corbin is up to.


	16. Breaking Down

Parker ushered the two men into his office, his expression carefully blank, as if receiving a visit from federal agents was an everyday occurrence.

“I have to say I've not heard of your particular department, Agent Corbin,” said Parker. He gestured at the chairs in front of the desk and they all took their seats. “A secret agency?”

Corbin gave him a brief smile. “Hardly. We are merely...low key. I expect as time goes on we will become more familiar to the public.

“We at DPI are beginning to have some concerns about the Metro City police being able to handle the situation,” he continued. “We would have come to see you sooner, but that bad storm rolled in, and then we were called away. That business in Iowa. Rotten travel weather.”

“Don't you think that calling in a sniper so quickly was rather extreme?” Parker had heard that Philip Larsen, the self-proclaimed Weather Wizard, was paralyzed. He wondered who had made the ruthless call.

“We're not allowed to discuss the case,” said Corbin. “Let me just say that time was of the essence. Now, if you could tell me about Megamind's escape. Why do you think he decided so suddenly to depart, after years of relative quiet?”

Parker described the circumstances leading to his escape, his increasing restlessness and frustration, the uptick in fights. He told them about the chaos in the license plate assembly room that led to Megamind's first trip to solitary.

“Just a taser was enough to take Minion out?” Bates said, his voice a low rumble.

“It interferes with his electrical system.”

“That could be helpful in bringing them in,” Corbin said. “It's my understanding that Minion is rather protective. They're quite close, aren't they?”

“Like brothers,” Parker said. He tried not to let himself think too much about what “bringing them in” would actually entail. Getting tased was probably the most humane way of capturing them. Certainly preferable to getting shot.

“I would like to update my files,” Corbin said. “What powers does Megamind have? My records seem rather vague on this point.”

Parker nodded. “You should see some of the things he's come up with. He could build a computer out of a toaster. He speaks seven languages, last time I counted. We had three smugglers from Beijing here for two months and he picked that up in no time.”

“He learned Chinese in only two months?” Bates said.

“Hmmm,” Parker thought. “No. No, it was more like ten, maybe twelve days.”

Though even that might've been overly generous. To Parker it seemed like he'd picked it up over the course of a weekend. Parker had seen the boy watching the Chinese men in fascination, staring at them as they conversed, his own mouth and throat moving silently. Sometimes he passed the boy in the library or mess hall and he could hear him reciting words to himself. It certainly _sounded_ like Chinese. And then it seemed like in only a few days he was chattering away at the Chinese men, while they looked at him in surprise and mild amusement. Parker spoke with the one who had the best grasp of English and asked him if the boy was really talking with them in their native tongue, and the man answered that yes he was, though some of his pronunciations needed correcting. Mandarin Chinese depended heavily on the right tone, and the _wrong_ tone could change a simple request for directions into a bit of dialogue from a surreal theater play.

Corbin shifted in his seat and sighed through his nose. “I'm not talking about his wonderful intellect, sir,” said Corbin. “What I'm looking for is something above and beyond what us poor ordinary humans possess.”

Parker sensed where this was heading, but Corbin's tone was beginning to irritate him. Perhaps it wasn't fair to judge someone based on the quality of his handshake, but he hadn't appreciated getting his hand crushed. It indicated that Corbin was determined to establish dominance rather than respect, as if the status of a federal agent was well above that of a mere prison warden. Parker answered the question, while at the same time being completely dense.

“Well, his night vision is pretty good,” Parker said.

“Yes?” Corbin leaned forward a little.

“He heals from injury much more quickly than average, and he's rarely sick.”

“All right.” Corbin nodded.

Parker thought a little more. “He has a good head for maps.”

“And how do you know that?”

“We had him over to the house a few times when he was very little. One time we had to take a detour because of road construction and he recited the entire route that we _should_ have taken. And on the way back he gave me directions! Told me which turn to take before I even could turn the blinker on.” Parker actually felt a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth, and stopped himself from grinning.

Corbin looked at him with a stoney expression. “Mr. Parker, I'm referring to something a little more significant. Does he have psychic powers? Or any other super powers?”

“No,” Parker said.

Bates drummed his fingers on his broad knee. Corbin tapped his foot, once, and looked down at the floor for a moment.

“Do you think it's possible he's hidden such abilities from you?” Corbin asked, looking up again with an air of strained patience.

Parker said, “No, I don't think that he has tricked me into making me _think_ that he doesn't have them.”

He knew this, because he'd done his research. The few rare cases of people truly being manipulated by a psychic always displayed tell-tale signs, such lost memories, fuzzy thinking, and abnormal behavior like suddenly being unable to perform simple tasks like turning on a light switch or walking across a room without explicit instructions. In the absence of, say, heavy drinking or the onset of a mental disorder, psychic manipulation had been the cause.

And hiding such powers from the entire prison population? He seriously doubted it.

“If he had any, I don't think that he would've been able to resist using them. There have been countless situations where being able to manipulate someone's thoughts would have been to his benefit. There has not even been the slightest hint of psychic ability, or other super powers. Unless unbridled sarcasm has been redefined as a super power. You can ask anyone here.”

Agent Corbin looked displeased. Parker couldn't imagine why. Wouldn't this information make his job a little easier? One would think that pursuing an ordinary teenager would be preferable to pursuing someone with laser breath or super speed or something like that.

Of course, Megamind was not exactly ordinary. His ability to evade capture bordered on the uncanny.

Bates spoke up again. “These uncles that helped raise him, are any of them out on parole?”

“Yes, a few are, and the police have already questioned them. He has made no attempt to seek them out. I think he's determined to go it alone,” said Parker.

“I'd prefer to conduct my own investigation,” said Corbin. “May I have their names and addresses?”

Parker went to have a quiet word with his assistant, and Andrew put together the required list.

“According to my files, shortly after he was expelled from school as a six year old, some FBI agents came to speak with you,” Corbin said when Parker came back into the office. “and to observe the security measures at this facility, but you refused to cooperate with them. May I ask why?” He gave Parker a look full of challenge.

Parker returned his gaze steadily. _Now he's calling me hostile and uncooperative? Let's see, how to answer without implying that is just about the biggest crock I ever heard?_ “That's a funny way of putting it.”

“How do you mean?”

“They didn't come here to speak with me, they came here intending to seize custody of him.”

The two agents glanced at each other. “Why do you say that?” said Corbin.

“Because three nights after his expulsion, I got a call from my security chief at 1:30 in the morning, saying that three FBI agents were here, demanding to take the boy. You think I'm making this up?” he said in a low voice.

“No, of course not, sir,” Bates said hastily. “It's just...surprising.”

_I wasn't surprised,_ Parker thought. He'd actually been expecting them to pull some kind of stunt like that sooner or later.

Parker was pretty sure that the agents hadn't been expecting the prison guards to put up much protest at their intrusion, but they hadn't counted on the presence of security chief Schmidt, or on Al Kopecki, the one guard that Megamind called uncle. Neither of them were about to let the boy get spirited away in the dead of night. Schmidt didn't usually work at night, but once in a while he would do a graveyard shift to make sure everything was to his satisfaction. He was not overly fond of Megamind even back then, but he knew full well when an act of underhanded trickery was going on, and had refused to let the FBI agents even see the boy.

“What did you do, then?” Corbin asked.

What Parker had done was curse, and call his lawyer, and tear over to the prison like a bat out of hell.

“My lawyer Miranda Tolliver agreed to meet me here, and she and I confronted them,” he said calmly. “And they acted like there must have been some mistake, and left.” Mrs.Tolliver had shown up with her hair in curlers. She threatened an endless number of lawsuits, promised to expose everything in the media, and harangued them with legalese until they didn't know which end was up. The agents gave some excuse about discussing the matter with their superiors, and got out of there.

“Well, it would seem that I have been misinformed, then,” said Corbin. “I am merely trying to understand, Mr. Parker. Despite being incarcerated for his entire life, he has no trouble traveling around this massive city, and dodges the police with ease. How do you explain that?”

Parker sighed and lifted his hands in frustration. “He seems to avoid capture merely by being where the police are not. What else can I say?”

“Yes, but he's not exactly avoiding them anymore, is he? You heard how he ambushed those two officers? One of them was shot, the other left with a broken arm.”

_But the one who was shot with the de-gun is alive and unharmed, and the other guy got a broken arm from falling down the stairs,_ Parker thought, but he didn't say it out loud because he knew it would sound like he was making excuses. “Yes, I know. I don't know how to explain it. He keeps on the move.”

“Has Megamind contacted you or anyone else in your family?”

Quite without his approval, a sudden image of Ronnie the gas station attendant came to the surface of Parker's thoughts. He never had told anyone about Megamind's 'tutoring' sessions.

Parker clasped his hands together on the desk and looked Corbin in the eye. “No. Other than a prank call he made to my house on the night of his escape, Megamind has never contacted me,” he said.

Corbin held his gaze, then looked down at his notes again.

After a few more questions, Corbin and Bates got up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Parker,” said Corbin. “If you can think of anything that might be helpful to our investigation, please give me a call.” He gave him his card, then they walked out the door.

Parker sat down again, slowly.  _I wonder what the penalty is for concealing information from a federal investigator?_ he thought glumly. There was probably a mandatory sentence.  _But Megamind didn't contact me. The agent asked me if he'd directly contacted me,_ was probably not going to appease whatever investigatory board was put on his case. It didn't sound very good, even to his own ears.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Corbin and Bates walked out into the parking lot. The news that Minion could be so easily neutralized could be useful, but the meeting with the warden had not been quite as productive as he’d hoped. “Little freak doesn't gamble,” Corbin said, fuming. “He dehydrates any drug dealer that comes near him, he doesn't have any friends, or girlfriends.”

“Scared the heck out of those high school girls,” Bates said.

Corbin waved an impatient hand. “That must have been some kind of prank. Those girls were making up stories. There's plenty of friendly ladies around on the west side and he doesn't visit  _them._ What does he got, morals?”

“Guess he's shy.”

Corbin shook his head in disgust. “What is this world coming to. What else does a boy want? Food? Games?”

Bates scowled at him. “It's not like he's starving. And he's got plenty of games now, Ed.” He got into the car.

Corbin's face darkened. “Hey, why don't you just shut up.” He slammed the door rather harder than necessary.

“You shut up,” Bates retorted. “How'd he follow you home?” He turned the key in the ignition.

“What do you think I've been trying to figure out! A 'good head for maps',” Corbin snarled. “There's nothing special about him! Nothing! A big head and a pop gun and a pet fish!”

_Except he broke into your place, his 'pet fish' beat you up and he walked off with the score,_ Bates thought. No one had ever done anything like that to Corbin. He must be slipping. Bates mentally reviewed his escape plan. If this whole thing went south, he planned to be in Winnipeg when it happened. He had his new passport and ID all set to go.

“Put a tap on all of Parker's phones. He has a daughter and a son living at home, they both have cells, cover those calls, too,” said Corbin.

Bates pulled out onto the road. “Thin ice, man. You're going to have to find a way to justify it.”

“Parker's hiding something. You see the way his hands jittered around Besides, Megamind signed the register at the hotel with Parker's name. He could have put  _any_ name down. What does that tell you?”

Bates shrugged. “First person he thought of, I guess.”

Corbin grinned mirthlessly. “I'll bet he misses Daddy. He might call him, and if that happens, I want to be sure to trace it.”

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Officer Hernandez leaned over to press the button on the intercom, and announced his presence to the gruff voice on the other end. 

“It's about time,” Lord Scott grumbled, and buzzed them in.

The police car pulled to stop, tires crunching over the remains of old ice. Officers Hernandez and Griffin got out and inspected the towering graffiti that covered the mansion.

“Megamind Rules,” Griffin read aloud. She shook her head. “ _ This  _ is the big emergency that couldn't wait?”

“Now be fair,” Hernandez said. “Look, there's three, no, count 'em, _ four _ exclamation marks.  _ And  _ the words are surrounded by lightning bolts.  That, my friend, is a rich man's emergency.”

Griffin ducked her head for a moment to hide her smile. The door to the house opened and a man wearing a smoking jacket came out, trailing streams of important outrage.

“What, may I ask, is the police department going to do about this?” Lord Scott demanded in clipped tones.

The officers were careful not to exchange glances. “We're pursuing all available leads, sir,” Hernandez said stiffly.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night?” Griffin asked.

“Of course not! Else I would've called the police  _last_ night,” he said, managing to convey by his tone that she was a fool to even ask. “In any case isn't it obvious who performed this---this act of unmitigated gall? It's outrageous! The way he runs rings around the city's finest!”

Griffin and Hernandez looked at him solemnly. Of all the things that police officers saw on a regular basis, vandalism was pretty low on their list of Things To Be Outraged About.

“It's possible that someone else could have committed this act,” Hernandez said with an amazing amount of patience. “An admirer of Megamind's, or another troublemaker.”

The door opened again and Lady Scott came out wearing a coat around her shoulders and a small smile.

“Would you officers like some coffee? Sophia just made a fresh pot,” she said.

“No thank you, ma'am,” said Griffin, returning her smile. “Is Wayne around? He might have heard something.” It would be astonishing if he hadn't.

Lord Scott's jaw tightened and he looked away at some distant horizon. Lady Scott glanced at him and said, “Wayne's on a trip with his class jazz ensemble. They went to Lansing for a competition. They're coming back today.”

“Was this common knowledge? The perpetrator probably knew he'd be out,” said Griffin.

Lady Scott opened her mouth but Lord Scott beat her to it. “It was in the paper. I think they might have even mentioned it on the ten o'clock news.” Wayne's movements were an endless source of fascination for the media, even a mundane class trip. “Can you get on with the investigation now please?” Lord Scott said.

A brief examination of the snow around the house seemed to indicate that Megamind was, indeed, the culprit. His bootprints could have belonged to just about any punk, but Minion's deep, rectangular footprints were unmistakable, unless there was another robot henchman wandering about the city.

\- - - - - -

Three more days passed. A warm front moved in from the south. The snow developed a sheen as the surface melted slightly during the day, then froze again when the sun went down. Bit by minuscule bit, the mountains of snow began to shrink. Water trickled in the gutters. The thaw had begun.

\- - - - - - -

Fog rolled in. Agents Feiffer and Pitt settled in for another long night. Pitt was in the driver's seat, slouched down and catching up on some shut-eye. The Tanaka Industries compound was an island of giant blocks in a sea of fog. The other unmarked car was parked on the other side of the compound, invisible in the swirling mist.

_I didn't think I'd be signing on for this,_ Feiffer thought gloomily. When he joined DPI a year ago, he thought he'd be meeting lots of interesting people, people with fantastic and unusual abilities. They were interesting all right. Somehow he didn't think they'd all be so  _criminal._ He had once been disposed to be sympathetic to the plight of these troubled, super-powered beings, believing that once the government's new stance on extending a friendly hand to these supers was fully understood, then he could be instrumental in helping them turn their lives around. It was depressing to discover that supers were, in the end, as human as anyone else (mostly), with the same tangled lives and psychological weaknesses, only with a lot more power to really make a mess of things.

“How long are we going to keep doing this?”

Pitt responded without opening his eyes. “We have no other leads. Corbin figures that Megamind never got what he originally came for at Tanaka. He's hoping that he'll be back.”

“Do you think he will?”

“Just keep watching.”

“How does he know Megamind tried to break in here already?” Feiffer was not part of Corbin's inner circle and this fact had been nagging at him.

“Anonymous tip,” Pitt murmured, who  _was_ in the inner circle, but had serious doubts that anything was going to happen. If the alien knew what was good for him, he'd keep well away.

“I gotta take a leak,” Feiffer announced and stepped out into the drifting fog. He didn't want to go too far from the car. Corbin had promised that one of his “special” operatives would be making the rounds sooner or later. He hoped it wasn't Psycho Delic. That guy was beyond creepy. Even with the power inhibitor strapped to his neck, Psycho Delic always wore a disturbing smile, as if he knew a little joke that no one else had caught onto yet. Feiffer walked over to the nearest snow drift and unzippered.

Which is when Megamind pressed the de-gun into the small of his back and said, “Don't move.”

Minion loomed out of the fog, ripped the car door off its hinges and yanked Pitt out, all in one smooth movement. He threw Pitt's gun away and trapped his arms.

Megamind reached around  _very_ carefully and removed Feiffer's gun and tossed it into a drift. “Hands behind your head. Oh, you better zip up first,” he said, grinning. Feiffer hastened to get reorganized. “My God, you were even easier than the two in the other car! They'll let anyone into DPI, won't they?” Megamind chuckled, shaking his head. 

There was a squeak from Pitt. Minion wasn't about to let  _this_ agent wriggle out of his grip and Pitt's knees were buckling. 

Megamind backed up a little to let Feiffer turn around. “I have a message for Corbin,” he said. “See that you deliver it. Tell him that he should have realized that I knew that he knew I would be trying to break into Tanaka Industries again, and that he should have known that I would know that. Got it?”

Feiffer's mouth opened and closed and he shook his head in bafflement.

“I see I shall have to simplify,” Megamind said with a sigh. He stroked his chin thoughtfully with his free hand. “Hmm. Tell him that the fox will always outwit the shadow.”

Megamind fired. He tossed both cubes into the car.

“'The fox will always outwit the shadow'?” Minion said drily, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Megamind said with a grin and a shrug. “That's a good one.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Officer Fleet turned the car down Cattail Drive and stopped next to the Polar North Warehouse.

“Where to now, Detective?” he asked.

Detective Buford scanned the lighted up warehouse and the surrounding buildings, many of them dark and deserted. In the lee of the doorway, one of the warehouse employees was enjoying a quiet smoke.

He probably should come back tomorrow, when the sun was up, he thought. He should have remembered how desolate this area was. The street lights still worked, but most of the buildings were not even in use anymore.

Getting an irate phone call from the richest man in town had galvanized the commanding rank. Lord Scott had called the commissioner, the commissioner had called the captain, and the captain had called Buford into his office and asked him some very pointed questions about his progress on the Megamind case, or lack thereof.

Buford was slow but methodical, and he had a backlog of hundreds of leads, almost all of which were along the lines of “I know a guy who said his second cousin saw Megamind buying a VCR off the old lady next door.” It was usually somebody who knew somebody else.

The ones that were out and out crazy could be thrown out, but he was stuck with checking out the rest, no matter how vague they were.

At least he would be able to report on where Megamind wasn't. That was something. And he had been angered by the attack on his colleagues the other night. True, the officers had been negligent, leaving their car running, even if they were just answering a simple call about a trespassing junkie, but getting ambushed like that?

“Let's try this street,” Buford said, pointing. It seemed like a reasonable path for a confused drunk to take. “Keep your eyes peeled for any kind of mural. The nurse said this Logan was rambling on about some horse painting.”

“Could be anywhere,” Fleet said. “This fog's not helping much either, Detective.”

Buford nodded. “Yeah, I know. We should at least take a look around, now we're here.” They circled around, tried another street, peering into the fog.

But it wasn't a mural that caught Buford's attention. It was the cleared driveway. They'd passed numerous alleys and side streets that were clogged with snow from the recent storm. This old building with its boarded up windows looked as deserted as most of the others they'd passed, except for the fresh tire tracks that ran down the alley next to it.

They drove slowly around the block once, and then they saw it, a mural of a horse-drawn fire engine painted on the side of a building, just like Logan Wannamaker had said.

Fleet parked the car across the street from the factory and made a brief call to the station, so somebody would know where they were. They got out of the car. The area in front of the factory was covered with deep drifts of snow.

They went down the alley. Buford was not a superstitious man, but the fog muffled sound and gave a ghostly quality to the surroundings, like some cheap monster movie. He found himself tiptoeing. Well, he had to move quietly, didn't he? So as not to startle or alert whoever was using this place.

Some homeless people did own cars, even if they had little else. It was  _possible_ that someone completely innocent was squatting here, though from long experience Buford knew that 'innocent' was a relative term. 

The back door was unlocked, which was good, because it saved having to decide whether to knock or kick it down. There were footprints here. They both drew their guns and Buford turned on his flashlight. They walked in, ears straining for any noise, looking into the shadows.

They stopped by their missing police car that sat in the middle of the main floor, next to a cherry red Mustang.

Buford gestured with his head for them to leave and they quietly made their way back to the car. There still was no sound from anywhere in the building, but they weren’t taking any chances.

Buford called the station. “We found Megamind’s hideout,” he said. “Send back-up.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind dehydrated the last guard and looked around him with satisfaction and no small amount of glee. The Tanaka compound was overwhelming his senses, like his first visit to a shopping center, where there were so many things to see and touch and smell and taste he had become giddy.

Now this was what real labs were like! This was a a place where innovations could really happen. So clean. So orderly. Shining walls. No cobwebs anywhere or scuttling mice. The rows of computer monitors, the robotic arms, the hazmat suits! Fantastic. No dust or mold to gum up sensitive circuitry or get into mechanical joints.

He paused by one of the shiny stainless steel walls to admire his reflection. The one thing he missed about the prison uniform, the  _only_ thing, was that it actually  _fit._ Wearing clothes that didn't flap around his ankles were a thing of the past, now that Minion had finally gotten his sewing machine. He was dressed all in black, everything tailored just right. He adjusted the collar on his new shirt.

He strode through the corridors drinking it all in, and paused by a door with the sign “Light Refraction Test Run. Do Not Enter.” There were no biohazard warning labels on the door, so he entered.

When he exited the room he was in a very thoughtful state of mind. He'd been thinking a lot lately about disguises and how much easier it would be if he could blend into the crowd. With spring coming on, there would be no more hiding under bulky winter coats and scarves. But...if he were invisible....

This might take some time.

The sorts of things they were trying in the test run room looked to be roads to nowhere. Big blocky screens and clumsy machinery. It looked like they were trying to get some kind of camouflage screen in operation, but he could tell they were not going to succeed. He'd taken some photos, though, with one of his digital cameras, for reference about what  _not_ to do, and went to locate Minion, brain buzzing with thoughts of light refraction, holograms, and molecular structures.

He found Minion operating a remote control for a robot across the floor. Megamind watched as Minion steered it around the room, its treads moving it along at just under tortoise speed.

Megamind snorted and shook his head. “I think I built something like that when I was five. Remember? Only it was faster. Don't they have anything better than these remote control toys? Oh well. I'm sure I'll find some use for it, if only for spare parts. Pack it up, Minion.”

First things first! He'd put off building Minion's new robot suit for far too long.

A door on the far side of the room banged open. A young man festooned with dreadlocks and shoving a cleaning cart stopped dead at the sight of them. Reggae music echoed tinnily from his headphones.

They all stared at each other, then Megamind drew the de-gun and the janitor fled. The cleaning cart disappeared in a burst of light as it was cubed and Megamind charged through the open door in hot pursuit.

There weren't supposed to be any custodians wandering about! It was Friday! The cleaning crews were all supposed to be out by 9:30! What was he here for, extra credit?

“After him Minion!” he shouted as an afterthought, though Minion was way behind. The guy was fast too, fear giving him wings. Megamind ran harder, aimed, fired. He missed, but a vending machine was neatly dehydrated. Running and shooting was a lot harder than it looked.

Megamind pounded grimly on as the janitor raced for freedom, through one door, and then another. Megamind skittered around the corner just in time to see the janitor pushing open the emergency exit. The alarm blared shrilly through the hallways.

Megamind slowed to a stop panting, furious. He should get after that bastard, dehydrate him, and drop him in the nearest garbage can!

Minion trotted up behind him. “I'll get the van,” he said.

“NO!” Megamind shouted. “We're not getting chased off AGAIN! It'll take a few minutes for the cops to get here,” he shouted to be heard over the noise. “I'm NOT leaving until I get something worthwhile to take home!”

He ran to the nearest lab and began shooting everything in sight, experiments, computers, robotic limbs, anything that looked vaguely interesting.

“But...wait...Sir, you'll have to rehydrate... think of the water damage...” Minion fluttered helplessly around in a circle as Megamind blasted sensitive equipment into cubes.

“I'll reverse engineer, we can get decent parts elsewhere, this isn't the only place in town with robotic components!” Megamind shouted, and ran on to the next lab. Minion hurriedly began scooping the cubes into cases.

Megamind tore through the lab with all the sensitivity of a bulldozer. He was halfway through when a sudden horrible thought stopped him in his tracks.

The alarm had gone off when the janitor fled through the exit door. It  _shouldn't_ have gone off. His key-o-matic should have disabled the entire security system when they first broke in. They'd been here for ten point four minutes. 

_Had_ another alarm been tripped somewhere?  _When_ had it been tripped? Was there an emergency system that kicked in when the first one ceased to function?

“Minion, we have to go,” he called.

Minion grabbed two random cases stuffed with cubes and they ran out into the parking lot. Sirens from the approaching squad cars blazed through the fog, red lights flashing, muffled by the haze. Most fortuitously, they had parked near the back door this time, and the van was pointed outward for an easy get away. They tore away from the accursed compound of Tanaka Industries and raced into the night.

The roads that led back into the city were full of blaring sirens. Flashing lights were muffled, looking like florescent candy wrapped in cotton. Minion took a back street out into the countryside while Megamind tried to puzzle out what had gone wrong.

He seethed, and ground his teeth, and ran the schematics for the Tanaka security system through his head again and again. They'd updated their system, obviously, after the break-in by Shadow and his gang, but he'd already made the necessary adjustments! What sort of system were they using?

A certain change in the van's movements brought him out of his fevered thoughts. There was a definite gravel component to the road noise. He frowned suspiciously at Minion.

“Minion,” he said, “We appear to be on a dirt road.  _Why_ are we on a dirt road?”

“Ummm, maybe because I sort of missed the turnoff?” Minion said nervously.

Megamind caught a glimpse of a road sign as they whizzed past.

“This is County Road 120!” he said incredulously. “How far back was that turnoff? Now we have to go all the way down to 95!”

“Well, it's so  _foggy,_ Sir.”

The next sign they roared through was a stop sign, but they didn't actually stop until they rear ended the vehicle stopped on the side of the road, breaking its taillight and knocking one of their own headlights askew.

They stared at the state trooper's car, then Minion slammed the van into reverse with a spray of gravel and old snow and backed up and away, then they were tearing down the road again at decidedly unsafe speeds. Behind them came a blaze of light and noise as the trooper began pursuing.

“Well, that's great. That's just great,” Megamind fumed as they sailed on into the befogged night, trees whipping by. The road seemed endless. Then the van hit a patch of ice and they skidded across the road and slammed headfirst into a sign. This impact was much harder.

Megamind carefully peeled himself off Minion's outflung arm and pressed a hand to his streaming nose.

“Are you all right, Sir?” Minion said hoarsely. He was halfway under the steering wheel and was sitting on the floor.

“By node,” Megamind said indistinctly. His heart thudded dully in his chest. It was a toss-up whether flying face first into the dashboard or a robotic arm was worse, but then again, Minion had probably saved him from going through the windshield. In any case a bloody nose was the least of his worries. He touched it carefully. 

“Idd's nod brogen,” he said. He took his hand away. The bleeding was slowing.

Their single working headlight showed the sign they'd crashed into: WELCOME TO THE NORTON COUNTY NATURE PRESERVE AND CROSS COUNTRY TRAILS. In smaller script below it read “Entrance 1 Mile.”

Megamind staggered out of the van. The snow was hip deep. The trooper's car went sailing by, sirens beating the air. There was a squeal of brakes and grinding gravel as it overshot and the driver hit the brakes.

“Boss, I'm in trouble!” Minion cried.

Megamind leaned back in and peered under the steering wheel. Minion's legs had punched through the floor on impact. The left hip joint was crunched right up into the pelvis. Again with the hip joint! The other leg was crumpled, too. He was going to have to do some serious re-designing. Of course, plunging through the rusty floor and slamming into the ground was some pretty heavy testing.

He and Minion shared a look of mute understanding. He drew the de-gun.

“Be careful, Sir,” Minion whispered.

“Aren't I always?” he responded with a crooked bloody grin, and shot him.

The engine of the patrol car groaned as the trooper backed up and trained his headlights on the scene. The light caught Megamind as he plunged into the fog-shrouded woods and disappeared. The van's door swung open, empty, leaving behind churned snow and a few drops of blood.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Minion, dehydrated again! But it was the easiest way for Megamind to get him out of there. Norton County is fictional, and so is the nature preserve. I had to create a forest for Megamind to get lost in.


	17. Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in chapter 16, Norton County and hence the Norton County Nature Preserve does not actually exist, except as a figment of my imagination, because I needed to have a forest big enough for Megamind to get lost in.

Most of Michigan's forests are in its Upper Peninsula. The Lower Peninsula, where Metro City is located, is defined by sand dunes and rolling farmland, and nearly all of its forests were logged over a century ago. A few wooded areas remain, however. The one that Megamind was currently slogging through was a project of conservationists to restore some of the lost woodlands of beech and maple.

Beautiful though the landscape was, Megamind had his fill of it about two minutes after wading into the snowy woods. If there had ever been any lingering doubts in his mind about whether or not he was a city boy, they were quickly dispelled. His previous experiences with Nature had consisted mainly of a few forced chases through various city parks.

He waded through the drifts, pausing now and then to listen for pursuit, but the trooper must've been the cautious sort who waited for back up. It looked as if he didn't want to pursue the alien into the foggy woods, despite the wide trail that Megamind was conveniently breaking through the heavy snow. Perhaps the trooper thought he would be looking at the wrong end of Minion's fist if he came after them. He probably didn't know that Minion was tucked away in the pocket of Megamind's bulky coat.

Megamind felt in his pocket to reassure himself that the cube was still there. The last thing he wanted was for it to get jostled out, unnoticed, into the snow.

Soon Megamind left the sounds of the patrol car and the police radio behind him. The flashing lights seemed to penetrate the woods and the fog for much longer than he liked, but soon even that faded. He put his back against a handy tree and looked back along the meandering trail he'd left in the snow while he caught his breath.

He'd never been so far outside the city limits before, but he'd seen maps. He did, indeed, have a good memory for maps and directions, as the warden had surmised. One look was enough. Let's see, the Norton County Nature Center he remembered as a little rectangle sitting just off County Road 120. The sign they'd crashed into had stated that the road leading to the nature center was one mile away.

So, he would continue to head south, south-east, he'd make it to the center, where, hopefully, he would run across a utility vehicle or a snowmobile, so he could get out of there before reinforcements arrived and cordoned off the whole area.

He pressed on. The fog indicated that some serious thawing was going on, but there was still plenty of snow. The trees thinned out, the underbrush grew thicker and more tangled for a while, then opened into stretches of meadow with scattered trees. But the worst obstacle was the snow. Sometimes he would be walking along, sinking in just up to the ankles or shins, then suddenly he'd plunge in up to the hip. He had snow in his boots, up his pant legs, and after saving himself from a falling a few times, right up his sleeves as well. He zipped up the pocket that contained the cube to keep snow out of it. He picked at the dried blood his face, though it smarted. His nose throbbed.

Where were the damn trails? Didn't they clear them? Surely they maintained them for the birdwatchers and other assorted treehuggers. Or was slogging through the snow all part of the appeal?

The woods closed in around him again. It was a little easier for a while, in some places the trees seemed to have provided a buffer against the snow. His feet landed unexpectedly onto a narrow stretch of packed ground.

At last, a trail! It had to lead to the center eventually, it seemed to meander in the direction he wanted to go. He shook his feet to dislodge the worst of the accumulation, then set off at a jog. His ears strained for sounds of approaching sirens. He should be able to hear them, the road was still pretty close.

Drifts brushed by his shoulders as he trotted along in the white gloom. There was nothing but white snow, white fog, and the black trunks of the trees. It wasn't a completely black night. The heavy cloud cover captured the lights of the nearby city and the small towns scattered around the area, lending a haze of light even out here in the woods.

He wondered why the trail was so narrow. It was barely wide enough for even his slender frame. He imagined most hikers would have to edge through here.

He rounded a corner and space opened around him without warning. He jumped at the sudden presence of large, furry animals. The white-tail deer looked at him, big ears swiveling in alarm, he automatically counted them (sixteen), and then the air was filled with leaping bodies.

The deer made a brief, panicked run around the deer yard. Five of them bounded over the deep walls of snow, but the rest circled and charged toward the only trail and he had to dive out of the way.

They bounded away, leaving behind an impression of pounding hooves and flashing white tails, while he was left floundering in a drift. Now he had snow down his collar, too. Panting and cursing, he stumbled out on to the empty deer yard, trying to shake the snow out of his coat.

“Stupid deer,” he said, with feeling. When he got back to the lair, nature documentaries would be his primary means of interacting with nature, the way it _should_ be.

He returned to the trail and began to backtrack.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Ulrich lifted his head as the deer trotted by. He quivered with tension, wondering what had disturbed them. Then there was a small vibration from the communicator strapped to his wrist. He sat back on his heels and lifted it to look at the tiny screen. The words scrolled out: “Megamind sighted heading south on County Road 20. May be in Norton County Nature Area. All agents converge on scene.”

He growled low in his throat and turned off the communicator. The faint light that it produced might give away his position, and alien boy was a sharp sighted one.

He moved through the woods on all fours, turning his head this way and that, scenting, tasting. He loped along steadily in the direction that the deer had come from. He had left his confining clothes back in his apartment and his muscles rippled under his heavy fur. During the day he strove to maintain a dignified persona, but it was very hard. At night, the rules of civilization felt like an unwelcome weight, and memories of Vienna burned in his brain, and he would grow so angry that he just had to hunt. He blamed the animal genes that were now an indelible part of his genetic makeup for these fits of rage, never stopping to think that, in terms of savagery and bloodlust, humans beat out wolves every time. Wolves hunted for survival and generally did not go ravening through the woods looking for things to kill because they were having a hard time coping with existence.

He liked these woods. He visited them regularly on his nightly excursions. There were a lot of deer around in any case, sometimes they even wandered right into the city, but a large number concentrated here, and the hunting was good. He had to be careful to hide his kills, though. There were no large predatory animals in this region and Corbin had warned him not to draw attention to himself.

A small breeze was blowing and he caught the scent that came to him. And there was no smell of Minion. Oh, the blue boy had a little pistol of some sort, but that just added to the challenge. He had run down people with guns before, even charged a few head-on. It took an extremely strong-willed, well-trained individual to get off a decent shot at a charging, leaping Ulrich.

He paused to consider his options. Corbin had insisted that the boy be taken alive. Megamind would be _alive,_ he would make certain of that. But surely the agent wouldn’t mind if he were a little...tattered.

The wasabi powder that Megamind had left in his path weeks ago had burned his nasal passages badly and now his sinuses ached when the air grew too dry. A slow grin spread over his lips as he bared his fangs. He would teach that blue boy a thing or two about leaving scent bombs.

He loped along.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind slid down a drift in the middle of a cleared trail. A _real_ trail, a man-made trail. At last! It led in a meandering south-easterly direction. It must lead to the nature center. He set off at a jog, boots crunching on the packed snow.

Soon he came across a map nailed to wooden posts and saw that, yes, he was on the right track.

There was no other sound except for his own breathing, and the sound of the crunching snow under his boots.

The breeze picked up slightly and the fog moved sluggishly around him. Ears straining for sounds of approaching sirens, and wary of running into more deer, he kept an eye cocked for other unexpected fauna. The trees went on and on. He passed a more open spot with two benches and another sign describing the wonders of the view he could have seen if it weren’t the middle of a foggy night. He jogged on, intent on reaching his goal, to get to the center, and locate a truck or another maintenance vehicle that he could hijack. But a feeling grew on him that he was being watched.

It was the same feeling he got in the city, when he knew he was being watched or followed. He had learned to trust such feelings. It was not a difficult skill; if you felt like something was wrong, that you were under scrutiny from someone who wished you harm, you were probably right, or at least it was safest to act as if you were right. Such feelings had been well-honed in the prison.

His race had evolved in very similar environments to the ones that humans had evolved in. That is, they had existed for millenia in places where much larger creatures with fangs and claws were trying to eat them. Deep within Megamind's genetic makeup, ancient senses were stirring and growing increasingly alarmed.

He was not completely hairless. Like humans, his skin was covered with fine, downy hairs and the back of his neck prickled with goosebumps.

The big question was, who was it? There was no doubt in his mind that it was a “who” rather than a “what.” He saw a fair amount of wildlife in the city, the inevitable stray cats and dogs, rats and mice, deer, raccoons, seagulls and other birds, and once even a mangy coyote scrounging in a garbage can. Dogs had followed him and Minion a few times, out of curiosity or perhaps in hope of a handout, but mostly they slunk away, shy of people. This did not feel like a curious animal. The air was heavy with menace.

He eyed the trees by the trail and slowed to a walk. He wanted to get out of there, but he needed to know who was stalking him. Surely that trooper hadn't had the nerve to follow him. Even if he had, could he really have caught up to him so quickly? And wouldn't Megamind have run into him as he backtracked along the deer trail?

He walked briskly, looking from side to side, and behind him. Whoever it was could be laying an ambush. He looked up at the trees. Should he try climbing one? Maybe he could even travel through the treetops until he got to the nature center. His few attempts at climbing had mostly involved chain link fences, with Minion providing a helpful boost. These trees looked easy enough to get into, with branches close to the ground in easy reach. He eyed them, calculating how much weight they could hold, they looked a bit damp and slippery, traction could be a problem, he would need to make sure he had a good grip. But mostly they were young trees, this being a second-growth forest, and getting across from branch to branch would be tough, even with the grappling hook gun. The ends of these slender branches would bend. There were a few older, sturdier looking trees, but they were more widely spaced. It looked to be more trouble than it was worth.

The breeze picked up again, and the fog thinned, and as Megamind looked around into the woods that lined the trail, he saw his tracker. Deep in the trees, he saw pointed ears on a man-shaped head, angling out from heavy shoulders. Silently the figure melted back into the fog.

Every hair on Megamind's back and neck stood on end. Ulrich the beast man! He raised the de-gun but Ulrich was gone. He kept walking, a little more quickly now.

During the siege of the snowstorm, he'd spent a number of hours surfing the Internet and had uncovered something that piqued his interest, and momentarily distracted him from the dilemma posed by being stranded in the lair. In an online German newspaper he read the disturbing case of Dr. Strauss of Vienna, and his genetic experiments, and an accident involving one of his assistants, Ulrich Hofstetter.

The article had been a little short on facts, as the doctor's lab had been completely trashed, and the doctor's notes had been found shredded, along with the doctor. Perhaps Ulrich’s wife could have been able to shed some light on the matter, if they’d been able to find her.

He looked around at the trees again. Maybe he should try moving from tree to tree, after all. Wolves couldn't climb trees. But could _Ulrich_ climb trees? Even if he didn't attack he could keep him trapped until the cops showed up. Alive and unmauled, but back in prison.

He touched the pocket that held Minion. He could rehydrate Minion, and then the odds would be in his favor. Even with broken legs, Minion was still formidable. Back to back, they could easily hold off an attacker.

Except they wouldn't be able to advance. He could no more drag Minion to the nature center than he could have dragged that car motor down into the lair. Minion could use his arms to drag himself along. It wasn’t like crawling on the ground would make Minion cold, but it would be pretty slow going and rather undignified. He’d better just keep walking.

 _This is stupid! I'm armed! I'm perfectly safe as long as I keep my wits about me and don't panic,_ he chided himself. His hammering heart refused to believe it.

He ran his thumb over the settings. He could set it to “de-stroy.” But no, he wouldn't do that. All he needed was one shot, and Ulrich would be cubed. He left it on “de-hydrate.”

It was getting that one shot was going to be the problem.

He resorted to another strategy. He stopped and peered into the trees. There was no telling where Ulrich was.

{“I'm armed, Mr. Hofstetter,”} he said loudly, in German. There was no response, but the night seemed to prick up its ears. Ulrich may not have heard his native tongue in quite some time. Perhaps he would be curious about how Megamind had found out who he was.

{“There seems to be some confusion about your role in all that business in Vienna, Mr. Hofstetter,”} Megamind said to the night at large. He began walking again, de-gun at the ready. Where was that nature center? He'd feel a lot better with a wall at his back. {“Did Corbin offer to sneak you out of the country in return for your services? Or was it someone else from the Department?”} Perhaps bringing up Corbin's name would stir some reaction and give him a direction to aim at.

Still nothing. _Talk, dammit!_ he thought, sweating. {“So, did Strauss skimp on your paycheck?”} he called, growing impatient. {“Or did you kill him because he forgot to include you in his footnotes?”}

Ulrich wasn't talking, though the air seemed to grow thicker with menace. The silence was deafening.

 _Keep walking,_ he told himself. _Do not panic. Do not run. This is...strategic retreating._

His hand strayed to the square bulge in his coat pocket. If Ulrich jumped him, what if he shoved the cube into Ulrich’s mouth? It would reconstitute Minion straight away, and be a nasty surprise! Ulrich would have to be painfully close, though, too close, and it didn't take much imagination to figure out what the effects would be if Minion and his massive robot body were to suddenly reappear within something as small as Ulrich's mouth.

Urk. It would be a fatal surprise.

No, he _definitely_ did not want to do that. That wasn't ee-vil, that was just plain _wrong._ Not to mention totally disgusting. Megamind wouldn't do that to his worst enemy. Not even to Wayne.

Well... _maybe_ to Wayne. Despite his increasing urgency, an assortment of truly terrible ideas blossomed in his head. Metro Man must be vulnerable on the inside as well, but what if something like a bowling ball were dehydrated and shot right into the big lug's mouth? Surely it would be crushed, but Megamind liked the thought of Wayne struggling to pick chunks of compressed bowling ball out of his perfect teeth.

He walked through a fog bank into a wide open area. A parking lot! There was the black bulk of the nature center building, fog rolling around it. He bolted for it. Immediately he knew it was a mistake to start running but he couldn't stop now.

He heard a wooden sound, as something heavy leaped onto and over a log, and a _shoofing_ noise as a tree branch dumped its load of snow. Ulrich had exited the woods. Still running, he turned partly around and fired behind him at the dark shape that was bounding toward him. He missed. A few chunks of snow were dehydrated.

Ulrich closed with deadly speed, with a bellow that shook him to the core. The sheer force of the noise struck him like a blow. Megamind fired again but the shot went wild. He had a split second to see the three inch claws splayed on the ends of Ulrich's fingertips before the massive hairy body crashed into him, clawed hands shoving his gun arm over his head. Pain ripped through his arm as Ulrich's claws tore open coat sleeve, shirt sleeve, flesh, and he lost hold of the de-gun. Contorting with pain, he managed one backhanded punch to one crazed yellow eye with his other fist and then the hairy body collided with him and slammed him into the ground. The force of the attack sent Megamind sliding on his back over the packed snow. Snarling and squinting, Ulrich pinned his arms.

{“You mock me! You know nothing!”} Ulrich screamed, spittle flying. {“He turned me into a monster! A terrible accident, he said! And he was sleeping with her the whole time! Was that an accident? Did he trip and fall into her bed?”}

{“Yes! Terrible! Clearly a terrible mistake was made!”} Megamind gasped. He seemed to have struck a rather large nerve. Ulrich seemed to be looking at something a long way off. Never before had the meaning of the word “slavering” been clearer. He would’ve loved to shove Minion’s cube into the brute’s face now, all he had to do was catch one of the drips, but it was impossible. His coat was twisted around him and he could feel the cube digging into his hip. He strained to free his unravaged arm but it was like trying to lift a steel beam.

Ulrich refocused. One eye narrowed, the bruised eye cracked open a little more. His lip curled into a sneer at Megamind’s struggles. {“What are you going to do now, little man? Make a clever remark? I will teach you. I will...”}

With a last desperate heave that sent a fresh shock of pain through his arm, Megamind drove his knee up as hard as he could.

Ulrich's eyes crossed. He lurched drunkenly to the side, in the classic manner of all male bipeds who have just received a blow to the groin. Freed from the claws, Megamind scrabbled after the de-gun, grabbed it and shot the convulsing Ulrich.

The beast-man's pained features disappeared in the the brief burst of blue light.

“Ha!” Megamind gasped. “That’ll teach you! Ha ha ha!” He wished he could have come up with a better comeback, but really, it was taking a bit of effort to not throw up. That _breath._ He would never forget that smell as long as he lived.

Incredible. Despite all his speed and power, Ulrich didn't know _anything_ about fighting. Especially dirty fighting.

Still kneeling, Megamind pulled back the tattered sleeves of coat and shirt. There were three bad lacerations and a fourth shallower one across his forearm. He was gushing.

He pressed his hand over the wounds. The whole side of his coat was soaked. In fact, he'd better be careful, or...

There was a great tearing of cloth as his pocket ripped open and then Minion was sitting on him. Megamind was flattened into the ground.

 _“Getoffgetoffgetoff!”_ Megamind screamed. It took a few distressing seconds for Minion to figure out what was going on and where the racket was coming from. Then he gasped, pressed his arms against the ground and heaved himself to the side.

“Oh Sir, I'm so _sorry!”_ Minion wailed.

Megamind rolled over, sucking in great lung fulls of air. “Your next suit,” he wheezed. “Will have. FULL TACTILE CAPABILITIES. On _every_ surface.”

Minion took in the scene, the blood spattered snow, Megamind clutching his arm.

“Did I do that?” Minion cried, nearly in tears. Had a jagged edge from one of his broken joints torn him open?

Megamind shook his head. “Ulrich,” he said. Slowly he sat up.

Minion looked around, growling and raising his fists. “Where is he? I’m gonna...”

“Already taken care of,” Megamind said, nodding at the cube. “Clearly he did not know who he was messing with!”

“Oh.” Minion glared at the cube. He might have a private word with Ulrich later.

Minion pulled himself closer, legs dragging. Ever since the fight with Shadow outside Tanaka Industries Minion carried a first aid kit which he kept in his side panel at all times. He sat next to Megamind and pulled the kit out, letting it rest on his lap. Hesitantly, he put his arm around his shoulders who, having run out of bravado, leaned against him. The full shock of the attack was hitting him. A wave of heat roared through him, smartly followed by a wave of cold. He began to shake.

No! There was no time to fall apart! To sit here and get all touchy-feely. Yes, maybe the cops would let them cuddle in the paddy wagon when they hauled them back to the prison! How touching!

He shrugged Minion's arm off and straightened up, examining the wounds again. Minion's forehead was crinkled with worry.

“That looks pretty bad, Sir,” he said. “How did he do that? Wolves' claws can't be that sharp, can they?”

“He must have been injected with something more than just wolf genes,” Megamind said, teeth chattering. “Velociraptor would be my guess.”

Minion looked at him in concern. The robot body didn’t have full tactile capability yet, but he could feel Megamind’s trembling against his arm. It was making his water vibrate.

“Maybe...” Minion said, and hesitated. Sir wasn't going to like this suggestion. “You need medical attention. The police will be here soon...”

“Get that bandage ready,” Megamind said, cutting him off. Minion sprayed antiseptic over the lacerations. He took out the newest addition to the kit, a box of ready made staples of his own making. Megamind hated needles and Minion knew that if stitches were ever needed that he would not have enough nerve to take a needle and thread to his master’s flesh. Hence the staples. Made of thin strips of metal with shaped into shallow curves, they should suffice. Awkwardly Minion pinched the edges of the first wound together with his big fingers and began applying the staples. Megamind clenched his teeth as Minion clamped the stitches down and the little edges took hold. Minion had gotten the hang of it now and he quickly finished closing the other lacerations.

It took every piece of gauze Minion had to make a pad large enough to cover the injury. He wrapped up the arm. Megamind felt like he had a bunch of pop can tabs strapped to his arm.

“Wait a minute,” Minion said as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. “How did I get re-hydrated?”

“Two possibilities, Minion. Could have been melted snow,” Megamind said. A crazed grin split his face. “On the other hand, we could be blood brothers now! Heh. Heh heh hee hee hee.” He began to giggle almost uncontrollably. Minion stared at him, aghast.

From the west side of the woods there was the distant crackle of a police radio, and a brief woof. Megamind got a hold of himself with great effort. They'd brought their dogs.

“Time to go,” he said briskly. He used Minion's shoulder to get to his feet.

“But Sir, don't you think...” Minion said in alarm.

Megamind shot him. Shooting Minion in mid-sentence was incredibly rude, even by his standards, but there was no time to argue. He wasn't going to let Minion talk him into surrendering. Not for a mere flesh wound. He stripped off his bloody glove and scrubbed his damp hand against his pants before gingerly picking up the cube and stowing it in his other coat pocket. He left Ulrich's cube where it was. He had no real plan for it, but it occurred to him that Ulrich might serve as a distraction. Plus there was no way in hell he was going to stuff that cube into his pocket. He didn't need any more accidental re-hydrations.

He hurried around the side of the building and pressed against the wall. The nature center was in the middle of a wide open space. The woods were to the north, west, and east. South of the building lay a few spindly trees and open, snow-covered fields. The wind was picking up, and the fog was dissipating. Headlights shone through the trees surrounding the entrance road. Two avenues of escape were blocked off.

The breeze was picking up intermittently, and the fog was getting ragged, shifting and dissipating in great swaths. The nature center was out in the open. He could make a dash for the other side of the woods, but he would be crossing open ground and his legs were wobbling. He wasn't sure he _could_ run.

The tires ground slowly against the packed snow. And he had to throw the dogs off the scent.

He stepped out from under the eaves to look at the roof. There were solar panels on this side. The snow had melted off the roof and it looked fairly dry, for good traction. It looked to be about a 40 degree angle. A single large maple tree was next to the building, and just beyond that, a maintenance shed. Roof, tree, shed. Would it be enough to throw off the dogs? There was precious little cover once he got to the shed.

If he kept moving, he might just be able to move from hiding place to hiding place. He fired the grappling hook gun. He winced at the 'whumpf' it made as the compressed air fired the hook, and hoped it wasn't audible over the sounds of the cars. They weren't running the sirens anymore. The hook caught the top of one of the panels on the first try. He wrapped his good arm three times around with the tether, got a good grip, and pressed the retract switch. The tether was pulled back into the gun barrel. Smoothly he was lifted off the ground and he used his feet to keep from banging into the wall. Then up and over the lip of the roof, the tether coiling up with a gentle hiss.

He got hung up on the edge for a second, and he was forced to use both arms to get over it. He dragged himself onto the roof, stabs of pain shooting all the way up to his jaw.

The roof tilted an extra fifty-five degrees, then abruptly lurched back. He clung to the shingles and tried not to fall into space. He squeezed his eyes shut and the nausea subsided. There was just enough room under the solar panels and he crawled under them. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. His arm was killing him. Even his fingernails were pulsing. Car doors slammed and radios muttered incoherently.

“Hey!”

He flinched, but the officers were just hailing the cops that had just emerged from the woods with their K-9 units. One of them set up a ferocious barking and was reprimanded by its handler.

“Geez, did a pig get slaughtered?” They were examining the ground.

The nausea subsided. Megamind peered at the arching branches of the maple, calculating distance to the trunk, trajectory, looking for an opportune place to leap. He couldn’t use the grappling gun now, the noise would be too loud.

The officers were examining the cubes. Megamind's wild shots had dehydrated three chunks of snow, which lay scattered about the lot. They cast a long shadows in the bright headlights.

“Don't nobody touch those cubes,” said a voice of command. “We don't know what they are. Spread out and search the...”

One of the dogs licked Ulrich’s cube.

Ulrich was reconstituted in all his glory.

There was a breathless moment of surprise, and then the dogs went insane.

Normally, K-9 units are highly trained and obedient. But the bizarre scent of man and wolf had been filling their brains for a long time, mingling with the trail of the suspect they'd been tracking. None of them had ever smelled wolf before, but something about it set them on edge, giving them strange urges and sensations, namely the desire to tear apart a close genetic relative. All five dogs broke their leashes.

Megamind wished he could've seen it. It was even louder then a bunch of screaming girls. It was a tumult of screams and snarls, and then a dog shrieked as Ulrich struck it and made a run for it. The yammering pack went flying into the woods after him, followed by the cops, who were no more able to resist the chase than the dogs.

Megamind listened to the shouts and howls and frantic calling, fading into the east. Carefully he inched out from under the panels and began to make his way across the roof. He listened to the four remaining cops tending to the wounded dog, the dog’s human partner talking in soothing tones. He felt a little stronger now, and he should be able to make the jump into the branches. But if he missed it would be a very noisy fall to the ground. He backed up to prepare to make a running leap.

“Me and Gary better check around,” one of the men said. The voice was very close. Megamind grimaced and hurriedly inched back under the panels.

The officers walked around Megamind’s side of the building and ran their flashlights over the bushes. He lay very still.

“We better check inside,” one of them said, but they turned at the sound of another vehicle and a new set of headlights panned across the yard.

A van was coming down a previously unforeseen service road. It pulled up to the building. “Metro City Herald” was painted on the side. The driver turned off the engine and got out of the van.

“Where'd you come from?” one of the cops demanded.

The driver pointed vaguely down the road. “Well, from that way. I just came from Summerville.”

“What he means, is,” his partner broke in. “This area is supposed to be all blocked off! How'd you get in on that road?”

The driver shrugged. “I always come that way. It's a service road. It wasn't blocked.”

The officers exchanged grimaces. “We better call it in.”

They all walked around a corner of the building. Megamind slipped out again and went to the edge of the roof. This was a new wrinkle. Maybe even an opportunity. He held onto the edge with one arm, legs dangling, and let himself drop. He landed in a crouch, then ducked behind one of the bushes the lined the building. He listened, to see if anyone heard his scrabblings, but no one had.

The other two cops were carefully laying the wounded dog on a blanket. The driver looked around at the gory snow. He whistled. “You guys on a manhunt?”

The youngest cop grinned. “Alien hunt.” He took a pack of gum out of his pocket and popped a piece into his mouth.

“No kiddin'!” the driver said, eyebrows shooting up. “Did he kill somebody?”

Behind them, Megamind slipped closer behind another handy bush.

“We think he got attacked by a werewolf. I seen it.”

The driver chuckled and shook his head. “Sounds like a headline for the _Inquisitor._ 'Alien vs. Werewolf.'”

“All I know is, some monster just about killed my dog,” the K-9 cop said, scolwing at them. The young cop muttered, “Sorry.” The driver looked away apologetically.

The fourth cop came back from the car. “Okay, the dispatcher’s gonna get some cars out on that road. Did you make any stops or see anything suspicious?”

The driver shook his head. “No. Hey, can I make the delivery now? It’ll only take a second.”

“Okay, make it quick.”

They all walked to the back of the van. Megamind watched as the driver swung both doors open wide and lugged out a small stack of newspapers.

“We should take a look inside, just to be on the safe side. That okay with you?” the cop asked. The driver shrugged and kept walking. The cop shone his flashlight around the inside. It contained a few stacks of papers, slated for neighboring towns.

More people came out of the woods.

“Hey, Sal, we got more company coming.”

The cop hopped out of the van and hailed them. “Hey! This area is off limits. Geez,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s like midtown.”

Megamind peered cautiously around the corner. The van was parked at a three-quarter angle to him, and it blocked his view of the men. But it blocked him from their view as well, and the van's doors were hanging open. Invitingly open. He could see right into it. He crouched lower to look under the van. He could just make out their feet, walking away across the lot to meet the newcomers. Someone would probably notice his own feet if he tried to climb into the van now.

A woman floated out of the sky and landed in the lot.

She was quite young and dressed all in pale green from her head down to her feet. A long brown ponytail hung out the back of her headcovering. She rubbed her hands over her arms and looked anxiously at the police officers as if she knew she wasn’t supposed to be there and was expecting to get yelled at. Her hunched shoulders and big eyes made her look like a cosplayer who had taken a wrong turn at comic-con.

“What's your business here, miss?” Sal asked gently. “Are you lost?”

“Uh, um, I'm with them,” she said, gesturing at the seven men who were striding across the lot, some of them shaking snow out of their pant legs.

“Agent Corbin, Department of Paranormal Investigations,” the first man said, flashing his credentials. He addressed the woman. “You see anything, Sparkle?”

Megamind tensed and pressed a little harder against the wall. Corbin did have a flyer on his team, after all.

“No, it's too foggy,” she said.

“You search the building yet? And who's that?” Corbin said, pointing at the newspaper delivery guy, who was watching the proceedings with a delighted expression.

The cops couldn't help staring at one of the men, because he was purple. Tall and lean, his face was gaunt to the point of being as skeletal as you could get while still having skin. He had long straggly hair and there was a faint purple glow in his eyes. His trench coat hung carelessly open, almost falling off his coat rack shoulders. A black band with two spots of light encircled his neck. He noticed the officers staring at him and his lips parted in an evil grin. His teeth were too long. A few strands of hair lifted off his shoulders as if stricken with an attack of static.

“Psycho Delic.” one of the agents said sharply.

Corbin turned halfway around to look at the gaunt man. Psycho Delic's too-long teeth disappeared behind his thin lips and his hair settled over his shoulders again.

Corbin glared at him for a few more seconds before turning back to the cops. “Well?” Corbin snapped. “Who is that?”

Sal shook himself. “Paper delivery guy,” he said curtly. Getting chewed out by the police lieutenant was one thing, but getting barked at by some fed was another. He wanted to claim back a little ground, to show this guy that the Metro City police held this turf. He just wished he had a few more of his colleagues to back him up.

Corbin stepped very close. “You check that van, then? The building?”

“Yeah, we did,” Sal retorted. “Well, the van's clean. We haven’t searched the building yet.”

“What are your names, officers?” Corbin asked. “I have reason to believe that your dogs are even now pursuing one of my specialists. If any harm comes to him, or Megamind gets away because of it, I'd like to know who to hold responsible.”

The officers shifted uneasily, but the K-9 officer stepped forward. “Yeah? Well, your ’specialist’ almost gutted Ranger.” At the sound of his name, the dog raised his head a little and made a spirited attempt to wag his tail.

There was a shriek from Sparkle. Psycho Delic stepped away from her, smirking. Megamind took a chance, and slipped to the van. He slid in swiftly and carefully, so it wouldn't rock as he climbed in. He curled up behind one of the stacks, heart in his throat, waiting for the outcry that indicated he'd been spotted.

But for a few crucial moments, all eyes had been on Sparkle.

“He touched me!” Sparkle said, pointing an accusing finger.

Corbin's face hardened. “Sparkle, get in the air. The fog's clearing off some, go over the eastern woods. Bates, search the building. You four cover the rest of the grounds.”

Sparkle, eyes crinkling with unshed tears, took to the air again. A rain of soft green and yellow sparks fell around her like fairy dust as she ascended. She soared away over the trees.

“You,” Corbin snapped at the newspaper delivery driver. “Get out of here. Take the main entrance, do not stop for any reason.”

“I'll call the blockade, let 'em know you're coming,” the young cop said to the driver. He exchanged impassive looks with the other officers. Looked like the feds were taking over. By the faint barking and yelping in the distance, it sounded like Ulrich had not yet been cornered. It was probably going to be a while before the other cops made it back.

Corbin crooked an impatient finger and Psycho Delic drifted over to him.

Corbin grabbed the collar around the his neck and pulled him close. Psycho Delic's smirk wavered.

“You listen to me,” Corbin said in a low voice. “Sparkle is the only flyer I've got, and she can't do her job if she has to worry about you feeling her up every other minute. If you bother her one more time, it's back in the box. Got it?”

Psycho Delic’s eyes glowed a brighter red. Corbin tightened his grip. Psycho Delic sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

“I said, you got that?”

“Yes,” he answered sullenly.

Corbin let go of his collar with a little shove. “Go with Bates.” Lips tisted, Psycho Delic stepped back, then turned and stalked over to Bates, who was kicking in the door.

Corbin scowled around at the ground, trying to make sense out of the faint tracks that scattered in all directions across the hard-packed snow.

The delivery driver slammed the back doors shut, got in, and started the engine. He waved a jaunty salute at the crowd and went on his way. He went down the main drive and soon arrived at the police blockade. Answered the same questions, responded that no-he-didn't-stop-anywhere-see-or-hear-anything-suspicious-on-the-road, and, because the van had already been searched, they waved him through.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

He went south on County Road 20, and brought the van up to speed. He took a drink from his mug and nearly spat it out when Megamind came over the back of the seat and plunked down next to him. The van swerved and screeched a little as he yanked on the wheel in his surprise. He straightened out the van and stared ahead at the road, rigid with terror.

Megamind hissed in a breath through his teeth. “Watch it,” he snapped. He'd banged the elbow of his wounded arm on the armrest when the driver had his little conniption. He held the de-gun in his right hand, pointing it at the driver. “Yes, yes, eek, I'm terrifying, oh the horror, just keep driving, citizen.”

The throbbing faded into a dull ache and Megamind relaxed a fraction. It was nice and warm in the cab of the van. His uncontrollable shivering began to subside. He heaved a sigh of satisfaction. “That was a close one. But the gods of evil must be smiling on me. You came along at just the right time.” He chuckled. What an escape! And right out from under Corbin’s nose, too! Him, his cronies, and his super-powered pets. That made it all the sweeter.

“But where to?” the driver asked, swallowing.

“Keep going to 95, then head into Metrocity.”

“My route,” the driver said miserably.

Megamind glared at him. “Your insignificant delivery route is of no interest to me. Am I going to have to leave you by the side of the road? There's a werewolf on the loose, you know. Probably nursing a bunch of dog bites by now. Very cranky.”

“I didn’t mean...I was just htinking out loud,”the driver said hurriedly, looking sideways at Megamind’s blood-soaked bandage that lay on the armrest next to him.

“Very good, then. Drive on.” He was looking forward to getting back to the lair for some much-needed rest. Megamind put the de-gun in his lap and felt around in an inner pocket. He located the reassuring feel of a candy bar wrapper and smiled at the driver. “Fear not. I’m sure your employer will understand. Perhaps you can sell your story to the _Inquisitor.”_ But when he pulled ithe candy bar out, he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“An energy bar!? Oh, come on, Minion. He must have switched them,” he complained to the driver. He sneered at it. “I mean, really, it's covered in carob! As if that's any kind of substitute for actual chocolate. Do you have anything to eat?”

“Uh...I got a ham sandwich. But I ate part of it.”

Megamind grimaced. “Ugh. All right, forget it.” He supposed he better eat the utterly inadequate energy bar. He needed to keep up his strength. He took a bite. It was every bit as dry and wierd tasting as he imagined and he swallowed it with some difficulty.

His mouth felt like 400-grit sandpaper. He healed very quickly but it came at a price. He could become dehydrated very quickly too as his body worked to fix its injuries.

“Anything to drink?” he asked and leaned over to rummage in the little cooler that sat on the floor between them. “What’s this?”

The driver glanced at the can that Megamind held. “Just an energy drink.”

Megamind snorted. “Energy bars, energy drinks, you and Minion should compare notes.” He popped the tab. “What’s in it? Vitamins and minerals I suppose.” He raised it to his lips and began chugging it. With a name like “Zipline,” Megamind should have been more cautious and read the label, but he never read labels anymore. He knew exactly what things like sodium benzoate and Yellow Dye No. 5 were and did not like being reminded of what he was ingesting.

The driver shrugged. “I think there’s some herbs in there.”

Megamind took another swig. Must be okay, then. Though he scorned all things healthy, he’d unconsciously absorbed a belief from Minion that anything with herbs in it was wholesome and nourishing.

“But I use it for the caffeine,” the driver added.

Megamind gagged and some of the drink dribbled back into the can. He looked at the driver. “You use it for the what now? The caffeine, you say?” he said weakly.

“Well, yeah,” the driver said. “What’s the problem?” He looked at Megamind in alarm. “Hey, you’re not going to explode, or anything, are you?”

“Of course not,” Megamind snapped. “And I’m not going to harvest your organs, or sprout tentacles, or plant my young in your chest cavity, either,” he added nastily.

He patted at his pockets but he seemed to have lost his notebook and writing implement. His hands were beginning to tremble again. “Though there may be some minor difficulties. Got a pen?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the USSR was trying to conquer Afghanistan in the 1970s, Russian soldiers in the field would treat wounds by cutting strips of metal off cans and using them as staples to close the wounds. This sort of patch job was called a "herring", named after the most commonly available can and its former contents. I read about this in a book called "The Tiger" by John Vaillant, a true story about a man-eating Siberian tiger. It's a fascinating story about the former soldiers who are dedicated to preserving the tigers and other wildlife of Siberia, but have to make some hard decisions when a tiger begins hunting people.
> 
> In any case, I thought it would be handy for Minion to have some ready-made staples all set to go in his first-aid kit.


	18. Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Reading is one form of escape. Running for your life is another." -Lemony Snicket

Megamind marched the newspaper delivery man into the gas station at gunpoint. The attendant behind the counter put down his magazine, eyes wide. The single mildly drunk customer froze in the act of reaching for the nacho cheese lever.

Megamind stopped his hostage at the counter and swung the de-gun toward the attendant.

“Sudoku,” he said, eyelid twitching. Sweat glistened on the blue dome of his head.

The attendant's eyes darted from side to side. “The what?” he said. _That some kind of alien lingo?_ he wondered. Megamind looked like he was having some kind of bad trip. What was he on?

“Sudoku, you fool!” Megamind snapped. “I know you have it!” The de-gun shook as if it were possessed.

“You know, those math puzzle things,” the hostage murmured. Hands locked behind his head, he did his best to indicate he was unquestionably a hostage, and not an accomplice in any way, shape, or form, but he felt he could help matters along with a minimum of damage if he intervened at this point.

“What?” Megamind demanded, swinging the de-gun over to the hostage again. The blood roaring through his ears made it difficult to hear.

The driver, whose name was Zach, hunched his shoulders. “I was just explaining,” he said.

“Oh.” The de-gun whipped around again. “Well?” he barked.

“Yeah, yeah, right over there with the crosswords,” the attendant said, jerking his chin toward the station's small book section. He'd heard of the Japanese math grids but was not real familiar with it and in the pressure of the moment he'd not been able to figure out what Megamind was demanding.

“Get a copy of each, all of them, no duplications,” Megamind said, and Zach hurried to obey. Megamind cocked his arm, holding the de-gun by his shoulder, and paced back and forth in front of the counter, muttering to himself. The attendant stayed very still, but his eyes followed Megamind's jerky movements. The bandaged arm and torn coat made him look like he'd been dragged over some rough road.

“Did you know you can make your own diamonds with a nuclear fuel rod, a rock tumbler, and some peanut butter?” Megamind announced, unexpectedly leaning over the counter.

“Uh, no, no, I did not know that,” the attendant said, staring into Megamind's red-rimmed eyes.

“It needs some tinkering,” Megamind said as he began pacing again. “But it just might work.”

The customer in the food court raised his hand. Megamind whirled, pointing the de-gun, and the drunk slurred, “He-e-ey, uh, can I finish fixing my nachos?”

Megamind blinked and nodded, and the trembling de-gun pointed at the ceiling again. “By all means,” he said. “Pile on the lactic acid and modified food starches.”

Zach stood up with his load of workbooks and cleared his throat in a deferential way. Megamind jabbed a finger at him. “Water bottle, two hot dogs, gummy worms, Cheezy Chips. Now!”

Zach looked pleadingly at the attendant. “Can I have a bag?”

As the van squealed away, the attendant peered out the window to identify it, then reached for the phone.

The drunk huffed out a breath, shook his head, and started eating.

\- - - - - - - -

Sudoku after sudoku fell before his merciless onslaught. The crosswords and wuzzles likewise received no mercy. Megamind blazed through the pages, struggling to force his hyped-up mind to expend its energy on logic and trivia until he finally gave in to the raging torrent of ideas and began writing them down.

The interior of the van was littered with partially finished workbooks. Megamind had been scribbling furiously for nearly an hour. From what Zach could see, he'd moved on from mere math puzzles and crosswords. He appeared to be writing a thesis. Torn out pages covered the dashboard, the floor, and Megamind's lap, all covered in incomprehensible cramped words and numbers.

Zach was sticking to the highway, circling around the city. Whenever he slowed down too much it brought Megamind out of his reverie with demands to know why.

Megamind groaned and flung the pen against the dashboard, where it clattered to the floor. Sinking wearily into the chair, he covered his face with his hands. “What time is it?” he groaned.

“Uh...” the driver glanced at his watch.

“Don't tell me. Two minutes and thirty-one seconds since the last time,” Megamind said, voice muffled.

The driver looked at his watch. 2:34 AM shone back at him, colon blinking gently. _Damn, it is,_ he thought. He didn't know why Megamind even bothered asking. 

He couldn't help wondering where all the cops were. There were generally more of them around just after the bars closed, especially on the weekend. You'd think the guy at the gas station would've called them at least!

Megamind heaved a huge sigh and let his hands fall into his lap. It was finally starting to wear off. The thoughts screaming through his head were beginning to fizzle and fade. His leg started jiggling again and he hit his fist on his knee to pound it into submission.

The worst part about the caffeine kick was that he couldn't concentrate on anything. He could process the small amounts of caffeine that occurred naturally in chocolate and a few other foods, but coffee and soda put him over the edge. He’d never even heard of energy drinks before. The label on the can of Zipline claimed it had as much caffeine as four espressos. They ought to have warning labels! It was a good thing he hadn’t drunk the whole can or he might have given himself whiplash.

The math puzzles had provided a good framework for his galloping thoughts for a while, but they had ultimately proven inadequate, like a picket fence erected against a herd of buffalo. There was so much! It was too much. His brain leaped from particle physics to lima bean cultivation to ways to improve the sonic quality of foghorns. For a while there he thought he'd have to re-hydrate Minion just so he could hold him down.

With the caffeine-fueled mania fading, he felt more in control. Exhausted, but sane.

“I've got a headache,” Megamind moaned in a little voice.

Zach felt a pang of sympathy. Megamind slumped in his chair, rubbing his temples, a sheen of sweat making the dome of his head glisten. His domineering presence had filled the van, but now he looked shrunken and weary. In fact, he reminded Zach of his own little brother the day after the kid had gotten into their dad's beer. Megamind had the same sort of washed-out rag look.

“Drink some more water, man, you'll feel better,” Zach said.

Megamind obediently reached down by his feet and picked up the water bottle from among the debris of wrappers, containers, and wadded up papers that rustled around his boots. He took a long swig. Yes, that's what he needed. He lowered it again and gazed at Zach with a calculating look. He wasn't so sure he liked this. It was too much familiarity, too much weakening of their assigned roles.

“Take this exit ramp,” he said.

They drove into the downtown area. Megamind ordered him to pull over. Zach felt dread clutch at his bowels, but he pulled over to the curb. The street was well-lit, and though the bars had closed a few knots of people lingered, talking and laughing. At the end of the block, two bouncers dragged a man out of a bar by his ankles and rolled him into the gutter. A group of party goers shouted out the lyrics of a popular song as they stumbled into an all-night diner across the street.

“Leave the van running. Get out.”

Zach glanced at him, wondering if Megamind were going to do him in. He wondered what he could say to plead his case, after all he'd done everything that Megamind had told him to do, he wasn't going to snuff him, was he?

Megamind slid into the driver's seat and made a small sweeping gesture with the de-gun. “Don't let me detain you any longer, but I shall require the use of your vehicle.”

With that, he reached awkwardly across with his unwounded right arm and slammed the door shut. He looked down and around for the seat adjustment, then ratcheted the seat forward so he could reach the pedals. About to drive away, he looked out the window and saw that Zach was still standing rather helplessly in the street.

Megamind rolled down the window. “What are you hanging around for?” he demanded. “There's no shortage of phones around here.”

“How'm I... I don't have cab fare...” Zach said.

Megamind frowned at him. “I'm sure the nice police officers will give you a ride home once you give them your statement.”

Zach shuffled his feet. “But what if...if they don't? What if...?”

Megamind groaned and dropped his head into his hand. Lips pressed tight in annoyance, he rummaged in his pockets and found a crumpled fifty dollar bill. “Un. Believable,” he muttered, flinging the little wad out the window. Zach caught it with a nervous grin. With a final scowl Megamind stepped on the accelerator.

Why in the world had he done that? Giving him money? He must still be light-headed from blood loss.

“The people of this city are fools. Sheep. No initiative! 'What about cab fare?'” he grumbled, imitating Zach's voice with a nasal twang. “I'm too soft. That's my problem. Glad Minion didn't see that. Be asking for favors all the time.” He shook his head. “Hostages.”

\- - - - - - - - -

Megamind parked on a side street and peered at his caffeine-fueled notes. He could barely even read them. Shaking his head he abandoned them along with the van down and got to work hotwired another vehicle. It was an old VW Rabbit and not in very good shape, but weariness had lowered his standards. He had few tools; it took an inexcusably long time to get the right wires connected. The thing coughed and groaned before it consented to start. He turned its nose toward the lair, left arm twinging and stinging, the lacerations filling his arm with a low-grade burn.

He smiled again as he thought about his fantastic escape, right through the fingers of the cops, their dogs, the feds, and their super-powered lackeys. His heart rate was back to normal, nothing to be concerned about, and the tremor in his limbs was gone.

His smile faded as he thought about Tanaka Industries. He was going to give that place his full attention. No matter how many guards they hired, no matter how many law enforcement nincompoops they surrounded the place with, no matter how advanced they made their security system, he'd crack it open like an egg.

With a thud, exhaustion landed on him like a two-ton pillow. His head felt so heavy he could barely hold it up, and he almost pulled over so he could grab some sleep. Despite his superior alien physiology the flight through the woods, the shock of Ulrich’s attact, and the ravages of the accidental caffeine ingestion were all taking a toll. But he was nearly home, and there was no need to spend any more time in the car than necessary. He'd re-hydrate Minion, regale him with the tale of his spectacular escape from half the law enforcement of the city, and collapse.

He shook his head as he thought about Minion's broken hip joints. It would take hours of work to get them replaced, the dents worked out of the chassis. Better if the entire lower half were replaced. It was a major repair job and it would have to wait. Poor Minion would be legless until he got some rest and could get to work on it. Minion could do quite a lot himself, if it came to that, but Megamind wasn't going to stand for a lot of banging and welding, not when he wanted to catch up on some sleep.

His weariness can be the only explanation for his lack of attention. He turned one corner, then another, and the bright lights flashing off the high walls of the silent warehouses and abandoned factories made him blink, but just as he was beginning to wonder through the fog that clouded his thoughts, _why_ there were flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding walls, he made the final turn. He slammed on the brakes hard, screeching a short way on the damp road, and his mouth fell open at the sight.

Cops were everywhere. Squad cars lined the street up and down the block. Cops were going in and out of the lair. HIS lair! Heads turned in his direction.

He flung his right arm over the back of the seat and looked out the back window, hitting the accelerator, tires squealing. He forced the ancient car into a backspin, clipping a taillight on a lamppost, then threw it into drive and floored it. Shouts and sirens started up behind him.

He tore down the street, his mind repeating the same useless question over and over again: how, how, by all that was evil, HOW? How did they find his lair? He was so careful. It drove Minion nuts sometimes, the way he backtracked and looped and checked repeatedly to make sure that no one could possibly follow them home. Cops couldn't find their own butts if you gave them a GPS! How did they do it?

There was no time for speculation. He took the turn onto Sundial Drive on two tires, the Rabbit groaning and rattling like a hundred tin cans. Part of his fizzing brain tackled the 'how', the rest of him was focused on 'escape'. He knew these streets blindfolded, which was just as well, because there were fog banks lingering, and no time to slow down and read street signs. Right, left, left again, just a few more turns he'd be on the freeway, and just see them try to catch him then! If only this rattletrap would hold up.

He skidded around onto Gruber Avenue and came screeching to a halt sideways. A semi-truck was backing out of the Unclaimed Freight Warehouse and blocking the street. He opened the door and stood on the seat and screamed at the driver.

“Hey! Get that crate out of my way!”

The driver stared at him, wide-eyed, then quickly scrambled out of the other side of the cab and was lost to sight.

“Typical,” Megamind growled. They weren't supposed to run away! The truck almost completely blocked the way and there wasn't enough room to squeeze the little car around it. The sirens were deafening. They'd round the corner any second. A bit of distraction might be called for. He took out the de-gun, flicked the switch to “de-stroy,” and aimed...

He pulled the gun back. The side of the truck's trailer read “Star Propane” in big swirly lettering. He glanced up and down the block, at a few curious faces peeking out of doorways. If he shot the semi, it would be a very big boom. The whole block could go up.

Damn all these onlookers! He took several steps back from the Rabbit and fired on it, then dived for the cover of the nearest concrete barricade.

The charge crawled over the doomed car. People hadn't missed his leap and someone shouted “Get back!” Then it exploded, pieces of shrapnel flying.

He shoved the de-gun into his pocket and dashed up the nearest steps, into the gloom of the warehouse. Behind him the Rabbit's gas tank belatedly ignited, sending a little fireball skyward. The roar and the red glare illuminated the floor and several surprised employees. A man with a fire extinguisher almost ran into him but no one tried to stop him and he pushed through the exit door into the opposite street. He needed another car, fast. No time to hotwire another one, he'd have to perform a spot of carjacking.

He plunged his hand into his pocket as he leaped down the steps.

It all happened at once. As he grabbed the de-gun, his heel hit the ice and skidded out from under him. He flung his arm out, his pocket turned inside out, the de-gun cracked against the iron handrail. Minion's cube came sailing out. It bounced onto the sidewalk, and he lunged after it with a wordless cry. It fell glittering through the air, off the curb, and clattered into the storm drain.

He fell against the curb, shoving his hand into the darkness of the grating. He could hear the tinkling of water and Minion's puzzled voice cam echoing out. “Oh no! Now what's going on?”

“The world's coming to an end!” Megamind screamed. “You're in the sewer! My glorious escape! I got out of that accursed nature preserve in a delivery van and thumbed Corbin's nose and drank caffeine and performed mental feats the like of which will not be seen again and stole a Rabbit and they found the lair, Minion! They found the lair! They're after me!”

_What? A rabbit?_ Minion thought confusedly. If Sir really had ingested caffeine there was undoubtedly some loopy sort of logic in there somewhere, but there was no mistaking the howl of the sirens.

“Okay, let's stay calm, Sir,” Minion said. He extended his arms until he was able to grab hold of the metal grate. He concentrated, gripping them with all his considerable strength, and the bars began a slow ponderous creaking, but they were solid heavy things and set deep in the concrete. He managed to force his broken limbs into a slightly better position and tried again. He should be able to pry them off, but it would take a while.

Megamind strode up and down the sidewalk. Someone opened the door at the top of the steps. He whirled and they swiftly ducked back inside with a slam.

“It's taking too long!” he snapped. “Get back, I'm going to destroy the grating. Then you can pull yourself out and I'll dehydrate you again.” Minion's hands disappeared from view and a scraping sound floated up as he dragged himself a little further away from the blast zone.

Megamind aimed and pulled the trigger. A single thread of energy made a graceful little arc over the gun barrel and dissipated with a “fzzt.”

“Fzzt”?! It wasn't supposed to go “fzzt”! Perplexed, Megamind looked at the de-gun.

“Minion,” he squeaked. “Minion, the coupler that attaches the BINKEY to the nozzle has snapped!”

Minion gasped. “Well, can't you fix it?”

“Sure! Just give me ten minutes and a solder gun it'll be good as new! Except I have neither!” Megamind shouted. “You wouldn't happen to have either of those things on you, by any chance?”

The sky over the back of the warehouse was glowing red with the fire from the stricken car and several bonus fires were spreading as the burning debris attempted to ignite the nearest buildings. Over the crackle of the fire were the sirens. A squad car came around the far corner.

Rattled, Megamind made a brief dash up and down the sidewalk. He needed a crowbar. No, wait, a chain, then attach it to that truck... no, wait, there wasn’t time for that, he needed to find a winch... or he could get some dynamite, then... but there weren’t any demolition sites nearby... dang it, there was never a T-700 Pavement Chewer around when you needed one!

“Sir, run!” Minion shouted at him. “I'll hide! You lose 'em, then come back for me. All right? I said all RIGHT?” Megamind goggled at him, looked around at the street, the oncoming car. Minion sucked in a big breath of water.

_“GO!”_ he roared. Megamind jumped, then turned and ran.

Minion's shout had jolted him awake. There was only one clear path and he took it.

He sprinted down the street, heading for Cooper Street and its network of alleys. On this street the buildings were so close together there wasn't even room for a rat to squeeze between them. Another squad car came screaming around the corner and drove right up on the sidewalk in front of him, but he barely even slowed down. On waves of adrenaline and the last vestiges of caffeine in his system he hurtled over the hood like a pole vaulter. He ran on.

Another squad car roared around the corner and he almost got creamed, bouncing over the trunk, banging his side, and landing on stumbling legs. The driver's door opened and a police officer, face tense with determination, lunged at him. His feet propelled him forward but a big hand grabbed the flying hood of his coat. Immediately he flung his arms up and slipped out the bottom.

The cop, suddenly grasping a coat full of air, tripped over him and fell heavily. His knee caught a blow against Megamind's ribs but he barely noticed as he scrambled to his feet and sprang away. He rounded the corner onto Cooper, voices shouting at him to stop, to freeze, to hold it right there.

_Fat chance!_ he thought fiercely and ducked into the first of the many alleyways that would lead to still more alleys and backlots, and leave those bumbling cops in the dust. Or the fog, as it were.

Past old crates and abandoned cars, feet breaking the crust of knee-deep dirty snow. Up onto a stack of crumbling pallets and he swung over a wooden fence. Sometimes he splashed through puddles or skidded on ice. Soon he'd be on Winslow, where there was a certain amount of traffic, he'd take someone’s car, no one needed to know the de-gun was broken, he could still threaten... He touched the empty holster.

He stopped short, panting, and put a hand against the bricks to steady himself. The de-gun was in his coat pocket, back there in the hands of his enemies!

“Rrrrrrrrargh!” he said through gritted teeth and banged his head on the wall. The sound of hurrying footsteps grew louder in his ears. No time for self-recrimination. He began running again. First Minion, now the de-gun! His most precious assets, lost.

He would get them back. But first he would lose these meddlesome cops.

Grimly he ran on, sucking cold air into his burning lungs, keeping the pendulum motion of his arms and legs going. He leaned forward to let gravity help pull him along. It was getting harder and harder to raise each foot and knee and put each limb through its full range of motion, but he kept at it.

Damn it! The alley he meant to take was hip deep in snow. He forced himself on to the next backlot, the next alley. He darted into the next alley which still had a bit of a fog bank meandering through it.

This alley had a 25 foot wall running across it. Most of the snow was gone here, and the remaining ice was pocked. He aimed at a pipe at the top of the wall and fired the grappling hook gun. It missed, the hook clunking against the wall and nearly falling on his head. Lips pressed tight he hit the retract button, reeled in the line, aimed again...

“Freeze!”

...and fired again. This time the hook went twice around the pipe and held fast. Pressing the button he held on and sailed upward. Hands grabbed at his boots but he kicked and was free again. The cop grunted and fell back.

He was up on top of the wall when there was a burst of gunfire. He didn't quite remember falling, just a brief sickening sensation of weightlessness, and then he was lying on a pile of garbage bags on the other side of the wall, screaming.

No, wait, he wasn't screaming. He blinked in confusion at his surroundings, patted himself down in a frantic sort of inventory. No, he hadn't been shot. All the noise was coming from the other side of the wall.

There was a definite female component to the screaming, though it rapidly devolved into the most colorful swearing he'd encountered since leaving the prison. It sounded like every cop in existence was on the other side of the wall and they were all shouting.

“You shot her!”

“You shot my ARM you mother...”

“All this fog, you open FIRE?! You knew we were in here!”

“Oh my God Sally, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!”

“Don't be sorry, you moron, call an ambulance!”

“Officer down, request immediate assistance!”

Megamind slid very quietly off the pile of garbage bags, wincing, and tiptoed to the end of the alley, with one last regretful look at the grappling hook gun, still hanging from the pipe at the top of the wall. Another asset lost.

_Perfect,_ he thought. They couldn't have done him a favor and specified that said officer was down because of her colleague's stupidity, could they? Because that would be just too easy. He imagined it would go pretty hard on him now if he got caught. _Officer shot._ He could practically feel a target growing on his back. Word would spread. Cops got really _serious_ when one of their own got injured.

But he wouldn't get caught. No way. He began to run again, a light jog. Across the street, take a left, over the chain link fence, across the backlot, another street, alley, stre-

He was blinded by the headlights of the oncoming tanker truck, its horn blaring, all eighteen wheels screeching. Moving limbs that were way too slow, he propelled forward. The truck jackknifed, skidded down the street, crushed a lamppost and stopped short against a set of stairs.

Megamind plastered himself against the alley wall, heart pounding at approximately 50,000 beats per second. When he felt reasonably sure he wasn't having a heart attack he peered around the corner to look at the damage. A car pulled over and a man came out to offer his arm to the driver was jerkily climbing out of the cab. A dark fluid leaking out of the tanker oozed slowly onto the street, filling the air with the scent of... gingerbread? Molasses, Megamind thought. It must have been en route to the bread factory. Now that he was at rest, he could smell bread baking.

Megamind went on his way, legs wobbling. Every joint felt loose and his wounded arm throbbed in protest at all the jostling. The two-ton pillow settled around his head again, making him want to find a nice hole in which to curl up and go to sleep.

More sirens split the air, either looking for him or rushing to the scene of the latest disaster, it hardly mattered. He couldn't keep this up much longer, galloping up and down these wasted avenues. He passed a few cars and trucks, but he didn't bother to break into any of them. He had no tools left to assist him in hotwiring. He could hotwire a vehicle without tools, but it would take time, of which he had next to none.

He paused to take stock of his surroundings. There was the cabinet manufacturing workshop on the other end of the alley, away from the crashed tanker, blazing with lights, the big double doors wide open. The sounds of table saws and other heavy machinery wafted out into the night.

He could keep running until he dropped, or he could disappear. He considered the angles. Misdirection. Give them something to look at, to send them on another path.

He knew the layout of this workshop as he'd slipped in a few times to use the facilities, though he hadn't stolen anything. No sense in committing crimes so close to his place of residence.

He had to make certain the cops saw him enter. That was essential. He paced up and down, waiting for the sirens to get closer. From the way the sky was blazing, more than one building had caught fire from the exploded Rabbit. The lack of further explosions indicated that the propane tank was still intact.

He was beginning to wonder whether it wouldn't be smarter to hotwire a vehicle after all, the cops certainly seemed to be taking their own sweet time, when a squad car came blaring around the corner. He dashed out in full view, across to the open doors, and ran in, into the workshop, past the staring men and women in safety goggles looking up from their stations. He ran up the stairs to the walkway overlooking the shop, and the short row of offices.

The police officers entered the building, Detective Buford bringing up the rear. He was rapidly getting out of breath and he waved the younger guys ahead. They'd spotted the black-clad, blue-headed figure duck into a room upstairs.

Buford labored up the steps.

“Locked himself in,” one of them told him. The officers had arrayed themselves along the walkway, guns ready. Word was the alien boy was armed. A certain grim tone had strengthened the cops' resolve when they heard that Officer Griffin had been shot. Buford would have to make sure things didn't get out of hand when they caught the boy.

He was about to inform Megamind that surrender was a much more viable option than a shoot-out, when there was a loud crash from inside. He nodded and the officer closest to the door kicked it in. It didn't take more than two kicks to tear the flimsy particle board out of its frame.

They poured into the office. Cold and mist drifted in through the smashed window. Buford ran to the hole and looked down. A swivel chair lay amid dirty snow and broken shards of glass, two stories down. No one was in sight.

“Outside! Now!” he ordered, and they all hurried out again. “Out the back!”

Feet pounded across the walkway and down the steps. The dust settled and it became quiet, except for the fading sounds of hot pursuit.

Megamind crawled out from under the desk. They would be back in a matter of seconds to search the building.

He slipped out of the office, crouching low and creeping along the wall so no one below on the main floor would spot him. Going down the steps to the employee break room, he looked over the coats and bags and purses hanging on hooks and crammed onto shelves.

He pulled on a roomy leather jacket, glanced around, and seized a blanket from another hook and threw the blanket over his head like a granny shawl. This was no time for pride. He took another quick look at the blanket, which was bright yellow and had pink roses on it. Geez, it really was a shawl, with fringe. He left the break room, heading for the main floor.

The machines had mostly been turned off, as the employees were milling around in excited little groups. Pallets and stacks of lumber and the empty shells of cabinets and boxes of tools and hinges ran down most of the length of the main floor underneath the walkway. That was his route, walking along the wall behind the pallets and lumber, in the darkness under the walkway. In the gaps he kept an eye on the knots of people chattering. He kept his head high and his gait steady and no one seemed to notice him. Walking like you had every right to be there was the key. Start running and pretty soon everyone's looking at you, wondering why you're running.

He went right out the front door, keeping his face down so he'd get the benefit from the shadow of his impromptu hood, and started down the walk. Having lost his gloves he shoved his hands in his pockets. People were standing around the entrance, too. He walked by them all and headed down the sidewalk. The few cops milling around were joined by several more cops that came around the corner. He stepped out of their line of sight, so that a group of employees was between him and the cops.

“Close all exits, front and back,” ordered the fat one in plain clothes. “Get everyone out of the building.”

No one was expecting him to be wandering through the crowd. His disguise would not survive more than casual scrutiny and he continued on his way, boots carrying him steadily along. The chaos of the search grew fainter. Almost there. Just a few more steps. Every muscle was tight with tension and excitement. His blood sang with the sheer thrill of it all.

There were no shouts, no cries of “Hold it right there!” It was working. He could hardly believe it was working.

He strolled around the corner and gasped. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath. His legs nearly gave out with relief, but he continued to lurch forward, disappearing into the labyrinth of streets, mouth curling into an insane smile. What an escape! He'd given the cops the slip twice in one night. Wait'll he told Minion.

His smile faded. It looked like he would become intimately familiar with the city's sewer system after all. He hoped that Minion hadn't been seen by anyone, though he supposed his shouting down into the grate hadn't gone unnoticed. He had to hope that Minion had been able to hide. His pace quickened and he almost started running again. No, he had to slow down. Running drew the eye. A cop car could be lurking anywhere.

How was he going to find him? Should he locate a map of the sewers? But he didn't want to waste time going around the city hall or wherever it was they kept such things, trying to find a map. What if Minion's heater gave out again? The thought almost sent him into a run again, but he squelched it. Even if it broke right this minute, the weather was mild and it would be a while before Minion experienced any deleterious effects from the cold.

The sewers must run parallel with the streets, at least part of the time. He would get as close as he could to the Unclaimed Freight Warehouse, find a crowbar, and get in through a manhole. But how was he going to get Minion out of there? A winch and a trolley? His gloom deepened when he thought of the lost de-gun. He had to figure out how to get that back, too, which meant breaking into the police station.

A sudden gust of wind sent the fringe of the shawl fluttering.

Startled, he looked up and gasped at the soaring figure that was turning and diving out of the sky. Megamind began to run even though it was pointless, he couldn't possibly hope to outrun HIM but he couldn't help it, and when Metro Man grabbed the back of his stolen jacket and lifted him off his feet he screamed in pure fury.

“AAAAAAAAARGH, you big stupid lumbering ox! You dim-witted, mouth-breathing, simple-minded troglodyte!” he screamed. “I just waltzed right by those brain dead cops! You know how many times I gave those morons the slip tonight? And here you come flitting by like some over muscled guardian angel fresh from the hairdresser! That escape was perfect! Brilliant! So unbelievably fantastic that those cops will never live it down. Do you hear me, Super-Ears? You RUINED it!” He stopped, panting with rage.

Metro Man wore a bemused grin. That was a heck of a speech. He'd never been harangued like this before. Crooks were usually pretty cowed by the time he caught up with them. Something about the way he shook them out of their getaway cars tended to take the fight out of them.

Megamind dangled from his hand like a dilapidated laundry bag. The cheery shawl had fallen down around his shoulders. The jacket dug into his armpits, bringing his shoulders almost up to his ears, and the zipper was uncomfortably close to his throat. He tugged at it to give himself a little more breathing room. He tried to cross his arms over his chest but his wounded arm twanged sharply and he settled for resting one arm atop the other and held his elbows.

“So how did you know it was me?” he demanded, swinging gently. “You used your X-ray vision to look through my clothes, didn't you, you pervert.”

“Just your shawl. And a lovely one it is, too,” Metro Man said, chuckling and tugging at the fringe. Megamind smacked at the offensive hand. “Ow,” he hissed, and grabbed his stinging fingers.

“Besides,” Wayne continued, “you were the only one walking away from all the ruckus. Everybody else is trying to put out the fires, looking at the wrecked truck, or running around that workshop.”

“Aren't you the clever one. A real junior detective. It was this brilliant disguise that enabled me to make my escape,” Megamind snapped. “What's so funny?” he demanded. Wayne was chuckling again.

“You are,” he said cheerfully. “You are a lot mouthier than I remember. It's always the quiet ones. You hardly talked in school. Must have been all that time in the corner. So what happened to you?” he asked, gesturing at the bandage that peeked out from his left sleeve.

Megamind sniffed and lifted his chin. “Only a titanic life-or-death struggle with a ferocious beast-man, if you must know.”

Metro Man shook his head in sympathy. “Took a beating, huh?”

“No, I won! Sent him packing!” Megamind said, bristling.

For the first time Megamind realized that Wayne was dressed entirely in white, with a cape hanging from his airplane-sized shoulders. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“My uniform,” Wayne said brightly. “Whaddaya think?”

“Uniform?!” Lip curled, Megamind looked him up and down. A double row of gold buttons marched up the white shirt. In the muted street lights, gold gleamed off the belt buckle and the heavy trim of the cape.

“I think all you need is a dorky little cap and you'll be all set for carrying luggage at the Plaza,” he said.

“Now be nice,” Metro Man said with a mock scowl. “I got Minion out of that sewer for you. The two of you will be sharing a cell again in no time.”

Megamind's face grew somber. They'd both been captured. He felt bad about that. He would've had to inform someone of Minion's whereabouts in any case so he could be rescued, but it still felt like failure.

Metro Man's mighty brows furrowed. “Hey. Did you really spray paint our house?”

“What gave it away? The signature?” Megamind said, smirking. “I suppose you had to find someone to read it to you. What, you don't like the color scheme I chose?”

Metro Man lifted him higher and bent his elbow so they were almost nose to nose. Megamind maintained the sneer with some effort. Was there a glint of laser red in those eyes?

“That was way out of line,” Metro Man said quietly. “It upset my mom. If you got a problem with me, you tell it to my face. Leave my parents out of it. Stay away from our house.” He jabbed Megamind's chest with a massive finger.

Megamind swallowed. “Yes, certainly, no problem. Don't want to upset your mother,” he said. “Poor woman has enough to deal with, I'm sure,” he added in a mutter.

Metro Man's face brightened and the thunder clouds dissipated. “Great Glad we got that settled.Not like it matters that much, you won't be escaping again! You ready to face up to your crooked deeds?”

“I've hardly begun to ...AAAAAAHHH!” Megamind's voice became a scream as Metro Man shot into the sky. He automatically grabbed at the beefy arm that was all that kept him from becoming a chalk outline on the street hurtling below. WAY below.

And so it was in this undignified manner that he took his first flight, and landed amongst the police officers and excited onlookers from the workshop and other nearby businesses. There was laughter and congratulations all round for Metro Man.

“That's my shawl!” a voice called, and the crowd parted to let a gray haired woman approach the hero. Metro Man yanked the shawl off Megamind's shoulders, making him suck in his breath at the burn, and graciously handed it to her. The woman held it in her arms like a precious article.

“Thank you, Metro Man,” she said, eyes shining. She turned a glare on Megamind, still dangling from his hand like a sullen fish. He stuck out his tongue. She sniffed and walked away.

“And that's my jacket,” a portly man said, pushing forward. Metro Man looked at his captive and set him on the ground with a raised eyebrow. Megamind sighed and rolled his eyes. He unzipped the jacket, shrugged it off, and tossed it to its rightful owner.

The man caught it, holding it at arm's length, looking askance at it.

Megamind narrowed his eyes. “Better wash it,” he snapped. “Wouldn't want to get die-zeased!” The police moved in to seize him. “Your skin will turn blue and your head will swell up like a balloon! Disinfect it! With bleach! In fact, why don't you burn it, you...OW! I'm injured, you pinheads!” They hustled him through the crowd and shoved him against the nearest squad car to frisk him.

Metro Man motioned briefly to one of the officers and leaned over to talk with him. The man looked at him with a puzzled grin.

The hero glanced around furtively. “Do you know what a troglodyte is?”

The officer frowned, puzzled. “A what?”

“Never mind, forget I asked, it's not important,” Metro Man said, hurriedly straightening again. He'd better look it up when he got home. He hoped it was easy to spell. “I'm going to go assist our brave firefighters. Keep up the good work, officers!” To the chorus of cheers and good-byes, the young hero took to the sky.

“This is police brutality,” Megamind said, while they emptied his pockets. “Can't you see the bandage? You must be blind as well as stupid. I've got your badge number, officer. MC-74040889.” He craned his neck to look at the next nearest cop. “And yours!”

“You have the right to remain silent,” said the second officer.

“Or what, will I get in even more trouble?” said Megamind. “I'm not through yet!”

“Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

“Yeah? I'd actually get to see a courtroom then? Ha! That'll be a first.”

“You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one then one will be provided,” sighed the cop, wishing Megamind would exercise the first right.

“My legal guardian's got a lawyer, all right. He's the warden you know.” He grimaced as the cop pulled his hands behind his back, snapped the cuffs on his wrists, and allowed him to turn around.

Megamind glared around at the cops. “I'll sue you so bad that your grandchildren will be destitute...” The words faded as the blood congealed in his veins.

Agent Corbin stood on the damp pavement, with three more agents behind him. He gave Megamind a thin smile, then ran his gaze over the assembled ranks of police.

“Thank you, gentlemen. And lady,” he said, giving a condescending nod to the lone female officer present. “The U.S. government appreciates your hard work in apprehending this dangerous fugitive. I'll take it from here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Out of the Frying Pan

 

“Detective!”

“Hold on a second,” Detective Buford said into the radio. “What is it?”

The young officer jerked his head toward the little crowd by car 38. Buford noticed that they still hadn't put Megamind in the back, but were talking to some men in black trench coats.

“They're trying to take our perp, Detective!” he said indignantly.

Buford's lips tightened in annoyance. Corbin, pushing his way in.

“Just hold on,” he said and lifted the radio to his mouth again. “Quit looking for the gun. It was friendly fire. Griffin was shot by Landry. And get Landry's gun and badge while you're at it. He's suspended, as of now. I'm kicking him back to the academy!”

There was a sigh and a muffled sound of agreement on the other end. Buford put the handset back in place in the squad car and strode over to the men in black.

“It's our collar,” Buford declared. “Me and Officer Fleet here found the lair. Police chased him down. We are in custody.”

Corbin's eyes flickered over to Megamind, then back to Buford.

“It's not first come, first served, Detective,” he said. “His crimes and his unique status place him squarely under the jurisdiction of the federal government.”

Megamind cleared his throat. “I would like to exercise my right to a phone call immediately.”

“Not now,” Buford said. “You can make your call at the station.”

“At the federal building,” Corbin said with a hard look.

“But _he_ has a cell phone,” Megamind said, jerking his chin toward Officer Howard. “He was talking to Sherry. He just put it away.”

“No, I wasn't!” Howard said, guiltily putting his hand over his pocket, ears turning pink.

Buford glared at him. “No personal calls while on duty,” he snapped. “One more time and I'm taking it.”

“Please?” Megamind said, leaning forward, eyes big. Buford noticed that the alien boy had gotten a lot more deferential. From haranguing everyone in sight, now he was practically a lamb. Buford was not thrilled that the feds had shown up, but it sure took the wind out of Megamind's sails. It never changes, he thought. Soon as a punk gets in over his head, suddenly he needs mommy and daddy. “I really need to make a phone call right now!”

“Or else what, you're gonna sue me, too?” Buford said dryly.

“Eh heh heh. Oh, that,” Megamind said, with a nervous chuckle. “Oh no, not at all. I'm sure you will be handsomely rewarded for delivering me into my guardian's hands.”

“You'll get your phone call,” Buford said. “Just keep your shirt on.”

Puzzled, Megamind looked down. His black silk shirt stuck to parts of his torso with sweat, melted snow, and an unknown substance from a garbage bag. His snappy collar was half up, half down, a shirt tail had come loose, and it would take a squadron of irons to get it looking decent again, not to mention a new sleeve.

“I wouldn't mind changing, I guess, but why would I take it off out here?” he said, frowning. “It's kind of cold. Besides, my hands are cuffed. How...”

“Would you forget the shirt?” Corbin snapped. He turned to Buford. “When it comes to national security, federal law takes precedence.”

“A few burglaries and car thefts are hardly a matter of national security, Agent Corbin.”

“I beg to differ. Kidnapping and stealing cars at gunpoint are federal offenses,” Corbin said. “And Megamind's unique status as an alien, and an illegal at that, places him squarely under federal jurisdiction.”

“An illegal...” Buford glanced at the boy. Yeah, an illegal alien all right. No papers, no citizenship...but hadn't John Parker taken care of some of that? Had him declared a refugee or something?

Corbin smiled, like a kindly professor giving instruction to a fumbling pupil. “It's not like there's any way for us to deport him, is there? Where would we send him?” He turned to Megamind and looked down his nose at him. “He's also wanted in suspicion of a number of bombings, including his involvement with the attempted destruction of the U.S. embassy in Paris five years ago.”

Megamind's mouth fell open.

Buford frowned a little. “I don't remember that.”  
“The People's Liberation Front for the Formation of a Free Burgundy claimed responsibility,” Corbin said.

“Wait a minute,” Buford said, raising a finger. “You mean... those two jokers who left a pipe bomb at the gates, shouted 'Vive Baloney,' and escaped on a motor scooter? It didn't even go off! And weren't they caught at the first intersection?”

“'Vive le Bourgogne', I think it was,” said Corbin. “They were resentful that the U.S. refused to acknowledge their sovereignty. Like I said, it's only one of the cases where he is suspected of being involved.”

“I was  _ten!_ ” Megamind cried. “I was in  _prison!”_

“One of the Burgundians visited the U.S. during the time frame in question, and the bomb carried certain hallmarks which resemble devices that you have made in the past,” Corbin said calmly. “You've been responsible for eight explosions at the prison. It's all documented.”

“Yes, eight  _successful_ explosions!” Megamind said with some pride, then stopped, as he realized that his protest was not exactly helping his case. “But I never met any of these French twits!”

“An attack on an embassy is an attack on our nation,” Corbin said sternly. Megamind was amazed that he could keep a straight face.

“Detective, Lieutenant Foster is on the line,” an officer announced, holding out a cell phone.

“It's about time!” Buford said. “Isn't he out of the woods yet?”

“He's calling from the hospital. He got bit.”

Buford sighed. “Hold on,” he said to Corbin and turned away to take the call.

Megamind's eyes darted from Agent Corbin's smug face to Buford, to the other police officers. The cops looked disgruntled but resigned, as if his deliverance into Corbin's hands was already a done deal.

_I can't believe this,_ he thought. His lungs felt like they were operating at about fifty percent capacity, due to the iron bands slowly tightening around his chest.  _They're going to turn me over to this maniac._

“Detective, I have to talk to you,” he said. He stepped toward Buford but one of the cops grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Buford scowled at him, then walked away a little more and put his finger in his ear so he could hear the lieutenant better. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Well, how long is that going to take?”

“I'm getting framed.” Megamind looked from one impersonal face to another. The cops didn't roll their eyes or sigh, but their faces took on that special look that generally appeared whenever someone tried a variation of the old “I didn't do it” theme. It was a look that Megamind had often seen on the faces of the prison guards. “Corbin's not who you think. He's...”

“We already have the  _other_ one in custody,” Corbin said, nodding back over his shoulder. Megamind looked past him.

Down the block, a large granite-faced man stood next to an unmarked gray sedan, holding the containment unit in one arm. Minion's wide eyes seemed to fill the bowl.

Megamind's breath caught in his throat.

“I had my men take the robot suit away. Sure makes him a lot easier to handle,” said Corbin. He cocked his head to one side. “What do you think that bowl's made of? Some kind of weird space-age stuff. It's not glass, or plastic.” He looked at Megamind and raised his eyebrows. “Do you think it's bulletproof?”

_Prick,_ Megamind thought, glowering at him.

Buford shut the cell phone with a sigh and handed it back to the officer. “What? Oh. I don't know if it is or not. How should I know?”

“That nice boy Wayne...no, wait, Metro Man, right?... lasered a hole right through the street and pulled him out for us,” said Corbin.

Buford's demeanor changed to that of a proud uncle. “Ain't he somethin'? He's been a real big help to the force. Good for the city, too.”

“I'm sure he is,” Corbin nodded.

“There's been talk of deputizing him,” Buford said.

“He deserves it. It's been a pleasure talking with you, Detective,” said Corbin. “You and your officers will receive full credit for the arrest, count on it.”

“Better have a doctor look at that arm,” Buford said, pointing at Megamind's bandage.

“I'll be sure to have someone take a look at it,” said Corbin.

_Yeah, the head torturer,_ Megamind thought bitterly.

Corbin made a show of taking a firm grip on Megamind's uninjured upper arm and steered him down the street. The other three agents silently fell into step behind them.

Corbin's footsteps sounded heavily in Megamind's ears. The police radios, the talk of people beginning to go back to their routines, the voices of the cops taking statements, it all began to seem very far away. A few craned their necks to gawk at them as they passed, but already curiosity was waning. All the excitement was over.

“Guess there's more than one way to skin a fox,” Corbin murmured.

“Think of that one all by yourself or did you have help?” Megamind muttered, automatically falling back on sarcasm, but his heart wasn't really in it. The gray sedan and Granite Face and Minion grew closer.

“You are so very lucky you're worth more alive,” said Corbin.

They were almost at the car. Minion crouched in his bowl, fronds drooping with despair.

Seizure! Even Corbin wouldn't drag him away if he fell down foaming at the mouth. Well, actually Corbin probably would, but not in front of all these people, especially the cops. They had to call an ambulance! And then, and then, he could...call out for Minion in a pitiful voice, because hey, he was an  _alien,_ right, and he needed to be in physical contact with Minion in order to survive... 

Oh God, that was so  _stupid,_ it had to be the most idiotic plan in the history of the universe, there was no guarantee they'd even listen to his pathetic plea, especially since he'd been galloping around away from Minion's side for the past half hour, but he had to try, and hope like hell they'd bring Minion along in the ambulance. If he could get them both away from Corbin for even a few minutes he could find a way to get a hold of the warden, his one remaining life line. He'd throw himself on the old man's mercy. A month's worth of solitary confinement was looking pretty good right now. A  _year's_ worth. 

He began working his jaw. How did you start foaming? Could people even  _talk_ if they were having seizures?

The grip on his arm became crushingly tight.

“Don't even think about it, little boy,” Corbin hissed in his ear. “I know all the tricks. Get in that car quietly, without making a scene, or else Bates is going to find out if your little friend can dodge a bullet. At the most, he would get a lecture for being cruel to animals. You hear me?”

Bates could shoot Minion, and people would tut-tut and shake their heads and frown, and say oh that was not nice, and Bates would get a slap on the wrist. He would get away with murder, in plain sight.

Megamind swallowed the saliva build-up.

“You send Psycho Delic home?” Corbin asked Bates.

Granite Face nodded. “Yeah, too many women around, man. Ross took him back. Besides, you want him awake, right?” He pointed at Megamind.

“Absolutely,” Corbin said, grinning, and put Megamind in the back of the car.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sedan stopped on the edge of the industrial zone. From here, Megamind could still see the dim red haze of the fire against the clouds, but the noise and activity surrounding the chaos was barely audible. They might as well have been in another city.

Bates stopped the car in the back of a long row of darkened buildings. A twenty foot high stack of twisted metal and skeletal cars lay on one end of the lot, partly covered by old drifts of snow.

“Good enough,” said Corbin, and got out. Bates got out too, leaving Minion in the front seat. Megamind could feel his internal organs shriveling.

They weren't going to shoot him, were they? It would be terribly suspicious, wouldn't it, for his corpse to turn up in some dumpster so soon after the feds carted him away? What if all that 'you're worth more alive' stuff had been just a way to get him to come quietly?

A cold, vicious thought arose in the back of his mind and quickly forced its way to the front. All Corbin had to say was that Megamind was shot while trying to escape. The warden would squawk and file a complaint, but Megamind would be past caring by then.

The other car pulled to a stop and the other agents wandered out, casually forming a loose circle around the lot.

But he suspected that Corbin wouldn't do that. Not yet at least.It would end the fun too quickly.

Corbin opened the back door. “Out.”He gave him no chance to obey, but grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him out and slammed the door. Staggering, hands cuffed behind his back, Megamind had to twist his shoulders and take several quick steps to keep from falling.

It certainly resembled an arena. Buildings surrounded them on three sides. A pile of skeletal cars and twisted metal lay in a heap on one end of the lot, partially covered with snow. Only a couple of dim street lights provided some sickly illumination. The cars' headlights were stronger.

Bates put a hand on his shoulder while Corbin walked around him, his feet crunching the gravel.

He flinched when Corbin grabbed his chin between thumb and forefinger.

“Why so jumpy?” Corbin chuckled, lifting Megamind's head and moving it from side to side. Megamind silently vowed he would not flinch again, even if Corbin held a flamethrower to his head.

“Look at this, Bates. I cut him right here. There's no scar, not even a little one. That is incredible.”

Bates leaned over to take a look, and grunted. “Hm. Could be worth somethin' then.”

“It could indeed. What do the lab guys call it?” Corbin said, tilting Megamind's head to look him in the eye. “When they use a critter for samples? Tissue donor?”

Megamind glared at him. Corbin let go of his chin with a hard pinch.

“Awful quiet,” he said. “You lose your voice?”

“It's patently obvious this is all merely a pretext, an excuse to belittle and humiliate me, so I don't see why I should even bother,” Megamind said hotly. “As if it's going to make any difference whether I say anything or not! It's not like I need to hear the sound of my own voice, unlike certain others I could mention.”

Corbin took a few slow steps back and forth.

“It's hardly worth it to bandy words about with some upstart from an obscure federal agency who's always last on the scene and has to depend on the police and that flying boy scout to do his dirty work for him,” Megamind said. Nerves tighter than bowstrings, he couldn't stop himself if he tried. “You're obviously out for rev-ahnge. Whether I answer you tiresome questions or not is beside the point, since clearly you mean to harm me no matter what I say so I don't see why-- -”

Corbin struck fast, grabbing his injured arm by the wrist and twisting it.

Megamind screamed. Half of the staples tore loose but Corbin maintained his grip until Megamind sank to the ground on one knee. The lacerations burned, it was even worse than the initial injury, it shouldn't hurt _worse._ Every joint from wrist to shoulder was stretched to their limits, at nearly bone-breaking levels. His right arm, pulled up tight to the other by the short length of chain, was not doing too great either, but his left arm felt as if a sword had pierced it.

Corbin let go and Megamind collapsed.

“You know, you're right. Doesn't that suck?” Corbin said. Megamind pressed his forehead against the cold ground and watched Corbin's feet out of the corner of his eye. Corbin was standing too close to his head. He wondered when the kicking would start.

A couple of the men glanced uneasily toward the sky.

“Relax, guys,” Corbin said. “That...” he glanced at Megamind. “...flying boy scout's not going to come diving in. He's too busy putting out fires and shaking hands. You have any idea how many calls for help go up every night in a city this size? He can't be everywhere.”

He took a few steps back and forth. The sky remained free of flying supers.

“See?” Corbin said, spreading out his arms. He gestured at Megamind. “Pick him up.”

Bates leaned over to grab hold of his shirt and set him on his feet, holding his arm to make sure he didn't fall down again.

“Somebody shut that fish up,” Corbin snapped. Through the haze of pain, Megamind identified the crashing noises from the inside of the car. Minion, in a frenzy, was banging the bowl around for all it was worth.

One of the other agents walked toward the car, but Corbin raised his hand. “Wait a sec,” he said, an unpleasant smirk appearing on his face. “I've got a better idea. Bring him out.

“Sounds like Minion's having a little trouble accepting the situation,” he said. The agent came back from the car with the containment unit, Minion spinning within furiously.

“So how does it open?” Corbin said, tapping on it. “I mean, you gotta feed him, right?”

Megamind strained against the hands that held him. “Lay a finger on him and I will spend the rest of my life inventing new ways of causing you pain,” he said harshly.

Chuckles broke out around the circle and Corbin's face split into a wide grin. “What was that, a _threat?_ Here's a tip, little boy. Don't go making threats you can't deliver on. I think it's important that we straighten a few things out here. It seems to me, Minion doesn't really understand who's in charge here. Open the bowl, Minion.”

Dread clutched his heart with icy fingers. “Don't do it, Minion,” Megamind said. At a nod from Corbin, one of the men stepped forward and punched Megamind in the gut.

He doubled over, coughing and struggling for breath. Only Bates' grip kept him from falling to the ground again. When he managed to raise his head he saw that Minion had opened the top of the dome.

“Very good,” said Corbin, unsheathing a large knife. It glinted in the faint light. “Now give me your fin.”

“Minion, stop,” Megamind croaked. The agent punched him again.

“Come on, Minion,” Corbin said. “Do we have to do this all night? Give me your fin or Bates will give your boy's arm another squeeze. Your limb or his.”

Eyes watering, Megamind saw Minion float to the top and roll onto his side.

“I'm impressed. You just can't buy that kind of loyalty. Don't even think about biting,” Corbin warned, and grasped the trembling fin. He looked at Megamind. “Call me sir.”

“What?” Megamind wheezed.

“Did I stutter? Just so your little fish isn't confused anymore about who's in charge. Say it.”

How quickly they came to the humiliation segment of tonight's program, Megamind thought glumly. Using Minion against him, to drive home the hopelessness. “Yes sir,” he spat.

Corbin pressed his lips together and gave a slow shake of the head. “That didn't sound very sincere,” he said with a smirk. “That sound sincere to you?” he asked the circle of grinning agents. The man holding the containment unit snorted.

Megamind lunged against the restraining hands. “I said it, you sadistic bastard! What do you _want_!” he shouted. “Fine, you want me to call you sir, I'll do it, you swaggering pretentious arrogant---”

Corbin placed the edge of the knife against the fin's joint. Megamind sucked in a breath. Minion squeezed his eyes shut.

Corbin looked at him steadily. “What I'm really after here is some sign that you can be taught. All I want is a little cooperation. Is that too much to ask? I _strongly suggest_ that you lose that snarky attitude. I'm giving you one more chance. Call me sir, and say it like you mean it, or Minion will swim in circles the rest of his life.”

Corbin's words drained the strength out of him. He sagged in Bates' grip.

“Yes, sir,” he said as meekly as he could, choking, because he was terrified that his next vision would be of the knife, cutting...

“And an apology, and a promise of good behavior,” Corbin said calmly.

Megamind hated him with every fiber of his being. “I'm sorry, sir. I'll be good, sir,” he said.

“That wasn't so hard now, was it?” Corbin said. He released Minion and sheathed the knife. Minion sank to the bottom in a huddle. “Put him back.” The agent carried Minion to the car and put him in the back seat.

Corbin walked over to Megamind. “I own you now. You and your little fish. And you owe me a very sizable amount of money. It's not like buyers with twenty million come around every day. Yes, the discs were worth that much,” he said at Megamind's startled look. “You owe me that much, plus interest. Show me how useful you are and maybe I won't sell you to some lab who'll use you for source material. And Minion gets to keep his fins. Won't that be nice?

“But first, your punishment for robbing me. Or your initiation. However you want to look at it, whatever makes it easier. Wachowski?”

One of the men came forward, cracking his knuckles.

“Pull your punches. Don’t want any broken bones,” Corbin said. “And not the head, or the face. Gotta preserve that beautiful brain.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Inside the car, Minion cringed at the sound of every blow. After a while he couldn't stand it any longer and began throwing himself against the containment unit.

If he had his robot body, those men would not be smiling and laughing! He would crush, he would tear!

Minion wanted to scream and rage, to shout at them to leave Sir alone, but he clenched his teeth together. It would do no good, he couldn't stop them.

Besides, he had to keep the secret. It could be their last chance. He had to keep his mouth shut tight, or they might see it. It had been especially hard to not whimper or cry out when Corbin threatened to cut his fin off. Minion shuddered at the memory of that hard grip. What good was he, when they could use him to torment his master?

Oily tears formed in the corners of Minion's eyes and quickly dissolved. He was so useless, no help at all, Sir was getting beaten and all he could do was swim around and throw himself against this stupid ball and rock it back and forth until it was banging against the door of the car, again and again and again, until he rolled himself onto the floor in his frenzy. But still he didn't stop.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

They shoveled Megamind into the back seat. He curled up in his own private world of pain, not really thinking of anything, just feeling a simple animal relief that the hitting had stopped. He caught a glimpse of Minion on the floor but he closed his eyes. The anguish in those sad brown eyes was too much to bear.

Corbin dismissed the other men. “Good work, gentlemen. Don't worry about writing any reports.” There was a brief ripple of laughter and Corbin got in the passenger side while Bates took the wheel. The car engine revved, and they rolled down the road.

“Isn't the plane ready yet? What, we're just gonna sit in the car?”

“Nah. We can put him in a cell for a while. It's only going to be a couple hours.”

A new pit of dread opened within his chest. Plane. A plane? Where were they going?

The leather of the seat was warm against his cheek. The car jostled over the bumps and cracks of the road. He clenched his teeth against the sharp jabs of pain that this produced, curling around the worst knots of pain. The bandage lay on his arm like a wet towel. All of Minion's carefully applied staples must have torn loose.

Minion cleared his throat but he didn't look down. Minion was just anxious, wanting to make eye contact. It was better if he didn't attract Corbin's attention.

Idly he probed his teeth with a dry tongue. Despite Corbin's instructions, Wachowski had gotten carried away a couple of times. His jaw ached but he seemed to have all of his teeth.

What would happen now? So far, life had not exactly been a load of laughs, but he was rather fond of it nevertheless. Was a lifetime of slavery all he had to look forward to now? It was best to not think about it.

Minion cleared his throat again more loudly, as if a scale had gone down the wrong pipe. Megamind felt a flash of irritation. Minion had to keep a low profile! He should keep as quiet as possible and maybe Corbin would leave him alone, would overlook the fact that Minion had once punched him in the jaw. Peering over the seat he scowled and shook his head at Minion, warning him to keep quiet.

Minion fixed him with an intent stare. He worked his jaw like peanut butter was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and a lock pick appeared between his teeth. With a flick of his jaw the pick disappeared again like magic. Minion gave him a big grin.

Megamind had to clamp his lips together to keep from cheering. That beautiful, fantastic fish! If they got out of this alive, it would be swordfish steak every day on a golden platter! The biggest aquarium he could steal! As many video games as that wonderful, clever, sneaky Minion could stomach! Whatever he wanted!

Heart bursting with a new hope, his eyes shifted toward the front seat and the back of the agents' heads. All seemed calm and they weren't looking. He looked at Minion again and gave a little nod and closed his eyes.

There was the tiniest of 'plips' as Minion spat the pick out. Megamind cracked his eye open and peered down. The little pick lay on the carpet of the floor, just beneath him.

He took a few steadying breaths. It was going to hurt when he rolled onto the floor. He froze for a second, wondering if some sort of cover story were needed. How quickly would they pull over? Especially if they thought he was going to get sick all over the car? Probably pretty quickly, but if they suspected he were up to something they might search him right then and there. He'd better go with 'on the verge of being violently ill', then.

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” he groaned, and slid off the seat. He landed more or less on his knees, but the mild impact jostled his ribs and the resulting pain momentarily paralyzed him when he hit the floor. Bates cursed and the car slowed down. The seat creaked as Corbin turned to scowl into the back.

As Bates pulled over, Megamind whispered, “As soon as we get to our destination, you have to get up on the seat and into my hands as soon as possible, just as they're getting out of the car.” His hands scrabbled for the pick. Where was the damn thing? He looked into Minion's eyes. “You're going to be the first to attack,” he whispered. “Can you do it?”

Minion wore an excited expression. “You bet, Sir!” he whispered back. The car stopped, and rocked slightly as Corbin got out. Megamind's hand closed over the pick as the back door opened and the scowling agent leaned in and pulled him to a sitting position.

He sat Megamind on the edge of the seat, with his feet on the street, and pushed his head down toward his knees.

“Keep your head down,” he ordered. “Hey, Leroy, you got a paper bag?”

Megamind obeyed, the lock pick buried in his fist. He kept his eyes trained on his boots, on Corbin's shoes as they impatiently shifted about, and on the concrete. It had started to sleet and a pattering of tiny ice crystals cooled the back of his head.

“So is he gonna live or what?” Bates grumbled from the front seat.

“Well, are you? Think you can make it without hurling?” Corbin snapped.

Mutely, still keeping his eyes trained on the road as if it were the most fascinating microbe ever discovered, Megamind nodded.

Corbin gave him a little shove on the shoulder and obediently he swung his feet back into the car and away they went.

He leaned against the window with his eyes closed and rotated the little pick until it was in the tips of his fingers. Patiently he searched for the lock in the cuffs.

Bile rose in his throat and for a moment he thought he really would get sick.

He didn't know their destination, or how many agents he would have to deal with. Corbin had dismissed the other men so it was just him and Bates, but Megamind didn't know if there would be more agents meeting them or not.

Minion would bear the full brunt of the first attack. How could he ask him to do something like this? He would be so vulnerable, at least for the first few crucial seconds. And tough as the little ichthyoid was, he wasn't quite as durable as Megamind.

Maybe he should wait. But they would probably go through a metal detector at some point. And what if he and Minion were separated?

Terror and uncertainty glued him to the seat, lock pick clutched in his increasingly sweaty hand. He glanced down at Minion from under lowered eyelids. Jaw sticking out, Minion stared fiercely back at him, sides swelling as if he were preparing to leap out of the bowl. He gave Megamind a single determined nod.

Megamind felt the iron of determination enter his bones. He stuck the end of the pick into the opening and got to work. His breathing steadied, and, as he fell deeper into concentration, his eyelids drooped and his gaze became unfocused.

If either of the two agents bothered looking in the back, they would have seen a prisoner who was bordering on comatose, nothing more, unaware of the activity taking place behind their backs. Or behind Megamind's back, specifically.

\- - - - -

As they pulled into the parking garage behind the federal building, Corbin exited the car with a satisfied sigh. A couple of hours to relax, put Megamind into a holding cell for a little while, then the FBI helicopter on the roof would take them to the airstrip. And he could get out of this one-horse town for a while. He was looking forward to going back east. On the coast he could shake a tree and find a better class of supers than in this backwater.

Everyone around here seemed to have some kind of mental situation. Must be something in the water. Sparkle had her limited uses. He didn't even need to put a collar on her. Stupid girl had the power to send a four story building up in flames with a touch of her hand, but she was such a mouse! Which was fortunate for Psycho Delic, who did not know how lucky he was that she hadn't sent a lance of energy through his spinal column. It had taken Corbin forever to even convince her to master her power of flight. There was a mental case, right there. Probably had something to do with the time she'd accidentally set her boyfriend's hair on fire.

Because of this, whenever Corbin brought her to his place he put a collar on her before taking her to bed, as a precaution. There was no need to play with fire at those most intimate of moments. She never protested, probably because she believed this was the only way any man would ever be safe with her. Corbin suspected the stupid girl was in love with him, which amused him.

So. Get the alien boy out of the city, away from the inconvenient legal guardian, and indoctrinate him into his crew. Megamind was halfway broken in already.

He opened the door to the back and Megamind, head bowed, sluggishly lifted his feet out, set them on the ground and stood up. Bates went to collect Minion from the floor on the other side.

“Ed, the fish is gone!”

Corbin looked up sharply, then down.

The handcuffs fell to the ground as Megamind raised his arms.

Minion sprang out of his hands and into Corbin's face, every pointy tooth bared.

 

 


	20. Into the Fire

 

The Department of Paranormal Investigations trained its agents to expect the unexpected, to be ready for just about any sort of bizarre super-powered phenomena they might encounter, but not even Corbin with his quick reflexes and martial arts training had ever imagined that a four pound ichthyoid would latch onto his face.

Bates, also taken by surprise, came around the side of the car at a run toward his screaming, flailing partner, and met Minion's containment unit coming at him from the opposite direction at full speed. He was knocked out cold.

Megamind renewed his grip on the bulky containment unit. It was slippery and about as aerodynamic as a washing machine, making it the worst blunt instrument in the history of bludgeoning. And it was all he had.

Minion had left an opening in the top just large enough to afford Megamind a tenuous grip. The containment unit wasn't bulletproof, but it should endure a couple of solid impacts. Probably. It had better, or else Minion would be in _real_ trouble. With his other hand to steady it, he ran toward Corbin and began to swing it at his head in a long slow arc.

It was simple geometry. Calculate length, angle, distance between the endpoints, and add enough force...

Corbin tore Minion off his face and flung him to the ground just as the containment unit connected with the side of his head. He went over like a wind-blown tree.

Megamind fell on one knee beside Minion.

“Hurts,” Minion gasped, sides heaving. “Bowl.”

“Right here, right here,” Megamind said in a high tight voice. Putting the containment unit on the ground, he worked his hands gently under the little ichythyoid and lifted him to put him back in.

A hand grabbed his ankle and yanked. It happened so suddenly that he fell hard right on his DAMN ribs, so for a couple of white-hot seconds he couldn't even remember his own name. He also landed on Minion, who shot out of his arms as if he were greased and rolled under the car. Teeth gritted against the shock, he twisted around onto his back as Corbin dragged him closer.

Corbin's face was a demon mask of rage and blood, several puncture wounds making a lopsided oval pattern across nose, cheek, and lip. Immediately Megamind began kicking, and he broke free while Corbin howled. Lurching to his feet Megamind scrabbled around the other side of the car, barely ahead of the furious agent.

“Minion! Get out here!” he shouted, dodging around the car again. Corbin did not seem to remember that he had both gun and knife at his disposal. A certain look in his eye suggested that sanity had pretty much flown out the window. Megamind wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, preferably by several time zones.

“Minion, get your tail out here right now!”

“I-I _can't,”_ Minion gasped, voice faint. “Run, Sir!”

Corbin charged. Megamind dashed around the car again, leaping over Bates' prone legs. “What do you think I'm doing!”

“No, I mean, _away!_ Run away, Sir! Save yourself!”

“Don't get all noble on me, Minion!” He took a quick look under the chassis and caught a glimpse of one of the tail fronds. A sense of movement from above made him duck and he felt rather than saw Corbin's strike whisk over his head. The fist connected with the side of the car instead and he doubled over in pain.

Megamind took the opportunity to ram his shoulder into his gut. An artfully placed foot sent the larger man toppling over backwards but Megamind didn't stop to watch the fall. He turned his head sideways and dove under the car.

There was just enough clearance. He grabbed Minion by one of the tail fronds and pulled him out, scraping more of the poor guy's scales off, but it couldn't be helped, and then he had him in his arms. Rolling to his feet he whirled to run, and collided with Corbin's arm.

The back of his head hit the ground.

 _Clotheslined,_ he thought, dazedly staring at the steel girders on the ceiling of the parking garage. Head hurt. Breath knocked out. Why clotheslined? There were any number of objects that ran parallel to the ground. Street signs. Traffic signals. Awnings, sort of. He got awninged. Yeah, clotheslined sounded better.

His empty hands, remembering that they had been full just a second ago, moved vaguely around. Hadn't he been carrying something?

A foot caught him against his side and lifted him into the air. He banged into metal. The car. He landed on the ground again, asphalt rough against his chin. Slowly he placed one hand flat on the ground but got no further before hard hands pulled him upright. He moved his heavy head around to face the demon mask.

Corbin bunched his fist and let fly. Bright sparks danced across Megamind's vision, white, purple, and blue, and entirely too much blood filled his mouth. Another blow snapped his head back and his legs collapsed but Corbin's grip on his shirt kept him from falling. The agent, face locked into what could be a permanent scowl, shoved him back and wrapped his hands around his throat.

The shock of his oxygen getting cut off sent new strength rocketing through his limbs. He tried to kick but Corbin had his legs pinned. He pounded at arms and torso but it was like punching a rhino. Trying to shove a fist into Corbin's eye merely caused him to pull his head back a little more, effectively putting his face out of Megamind's reach.

Why did every dirtbag in the entire rotten world have to outweigh him by a hundred goddamn pounds! He could hold his own against larger opponents, but not if he couldn't maneuver. Black spots appeared on the edge of his vision, ran together, and formed a tunnel and he clawed at the hands locked around his throat. The corner of the trunk jamming into his spine, bent backwards, it looked like Corbin's vicious, blood-streaked face was going to be the last thing he would ever see, when the face's eyes shot wide with shock and the mouth opened in a yell and Corbin half turned and struck behind him.

The death grip on his throat lessened and the pressure on his legs went away. For a moment, he was free. With a pinprick of amusement Megamind thought _Minion. Minion bit him in the tush._

Megamind grabbed the black lapels of the man's trench coat and yanked himself forward and upward as hard as possible.

There was a sound like a big coconut hitting a smaller one and Corbin swayed, then dropped to his knees and fell over. Megamind slid down the car, lights flashing behind his eyeballs, and sat against the back wheel, relishing the feel of air rushing through his burning windpipe and into his aching lungs. He much preferred to use his brains rather than his skull as a weapon. It had happened a few times, though, during times of trouble, that his head would accidentally collide with an opponent, usually to their detriment. It _hurt._ How did those Brits do it? They seemed to be the 'nutting' specialists. There must be some particular technique for the nutter to remain upright while the nuttee keeled over.

Corbin placed his hands under him and tried to lift himself.

Megamind groaned. Did he have a metal plate in his head?! What did it take to knock him out?

He braced against the ground but it seemed like such an awful lot of trouble to get up again. He wanted to get up, but his muscles were voting for a hiatus. So he sat there and watched as the agent staggered to his feet and stumbled sideways, eyes glazed and unfocused.

Megamind managed to drag his unwilling body into some form of cooperation and began the tedious process of rising. He climbed up dizzily with the help of the car. As Corbin swung his arms to catch himself from falling, the hem of his coat flapped open and Megamind saw the gun.

Forcing his limbs back to life, head ringing, he zeroed in on the hardware at Corbin's waist. He had to hurry hurry _hurry_ , Corbin's eyes were getting more unglazed by the microsecond. Megamind lunged at the belt even as one hand grabbed him again and lifted him up by the shirt, and the other hand became a fist...

...but the blow never fell. Corbin froze at the sound of his own gun being cocked. The tip of the gun barrel against his jugular was another deciding factor.

Megamind held the gun steady in a two-handed grip, hanging from Corbin's fist, his toes grazing the ground. They stood there for a moment in a tableau. Megamind pressed the gun a little more firmly into his neck. Corbin slowly uncurled his raised fist. Sometimes a gun can speak much louder than words.

With extreme care, he let go of the shirt and Megamind felt his feet settle fully on the ground again. His gaze never wavered from those blood-shot eyes and he kept the gun planted against the hollow place right under the jaw.

Somewhere in the dark, Minion choked.

Megamind almost looked. He almost looked around for his dearest friend.

Corbin's reptilian eyes watched him.

A wave of arctic cold poured through him. If he broke eye contact for even a split second, Corbin would strike. He could see it in the man's eyes. It would be risky, but Corbin would risk it, might even win.

The gun trembled against the underside of Corbin's jaw. His arms felt so heavy he could hardly hold it steady.

Rage swept the bone chill away. He would not look away! He, Megamind, was in control!

_I won't look around like some sap, because I cannot do anything for Minion until you are subdued. I can play the heartless bastard game better than you can, Corbin, I am in control here, I have the power. Not you._

And then a very evil voice in his head spoke. It wasn't ee-vil, the sort of dashing theatrical escapades he normally engaged in, this was drink-your-enemy's-blood-out-of-his-own-skull capital 'E' Evil.

And that voice urged: Pull the trigger. That will take care of everything.

 _I'm not a murderer,_ Megamind thought.

He would have killed you, the Evil voice murmured.

_He...might've been trying to render me unconscious._

Yeah, right, the voice scoffed. And what about Minion?

_Minion can survive for several minutes out of water._

So how long has it been? the voice sneered. You don’t even know. You lost track, got too many whacks to the head. Is he going to die because you're too chicken to end it right here?

 _Except it wouldn't end right here,_ Megamind thought fiercely. _The feds are like cops. Cockroaches. Step on one, the rest come swarming. No killing. I am in control! There are other ways to get rev-ahnge. Some things are worse than death and I will see to it that Corbin finds that out._

Megamind surprised himself with that last thought.

The internal conversation lasted for the blink of an eye. Maybe Corbin saw a hint of Evil in Megamind’s eyes because suddenly he looked a little less certain of himself. If Megamind didn’t know better, he almost looked worried.

“Hands behind your head,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Now step back.”

Minion gave a rattling gasp. Megamind's neck tendons nearly snapped under the strain of not looking.

“Turn around,” he ordered. Corbin obeyed, eyes blazing.

He quickly removed the knife from Corbin's belt and flung it away. Stepping to the side so he could see Corbin's face he made him take five more steps. His fingers twitched with impatience as Corbin slowly complied. Minion wouldn't have much time.

“You have three seconds to get down on the ground,” he hissed. “The same deal you gave me when I was at your mercy at Tanaka Industries. One. Tw---”

Megamind took a brief pleasure at the noise Corbin made as he threw himself to the ground before he could finish the syllable.

He finally glanced around to find Minion, but he kept checking to make sure Corbin wasn't up to anything. He wasn't far away. Keeping the gun trained on the recumbent agent, Megamind hurried over to him and scooped him up awkwardly with his good hand and the wrist of his gun hand. Once he was safely in the crook of his arm he trained the gun on Corbin again.

Teeth chattering, stomach clenching, Megamind ran to the containment unit, lying on its side. About a third of the water had dribbled out.

He knelt by the containment unit, righted it, and gently pressed Minion's head against its smooth curve.

“Minion, it's here. Wake up,” he said hoarsely. The opening that Minion had left in it was too small. It could not be forced open. Only Minion had control over the containment unit.

Fighting panic, Megamind pressed Minion's bleeding side against it but the little ichthyoid didn't move.

Despair filled him and threatened to overflow his eyes. He crouched over him and held the cool scales against his own forehead.

“Minion, knock knock,” he whispered.

A fin fluttered. The opening in the bowl grew larger.

Hardly daring to breathe, he slipped him inside. He swished the water around to get it flowing over Minion's tortured gills. The gills flared, then relaxed, then flared again. Megamind pressed a hand to the bowl, relieved. The gills hadn’t been crushed.

Minion’s eyes opened to slits. Squinting, he focused on Megamind.

“Thank you, Sir,” he whispered.

Megamind’s breath caught in a sob and he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. Two tears ran down his face.

He caught the movement of Corbin's head out of the corner of his eye.

Immediately Megamind stood and raised the gun. “Do NOT move,” he said. Corbin put his head down again.

A tear dripped off Megamind’s chin. The tip of the gun weaved back and forth in a figure eight pattern.

 _Keep it together, you stupid genius,_ he scolded himself. _Get Minion out of there, have hysterics later._

Megamind knelt by Minion again on one knee, scooped him up with his good arm, and hugged him close. Minion lived, and the warmth of that filled him and renewed his determination. His wounded left arm would have to be pressed into service a while longer, though the gun's tip kept dipping and wavering. A gun that weighed only one point seven pounds shouldn’t have dragged on his arm so heavily.

Off by the car, Bates moaned and stirred.

Megamind grimaced. “He could have stayed unconscious a little longer,” he growled. “Just five more minutes. I mean, really.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Minion said groggily.

Megamind expelled an huff of breath in exasperation. “What are you apologizing for? You didn't have anything to do with knocking him out.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Megamind sighed. “Just keep an eye on blondie over there.”

“Okay, Sir.”

Sidling toward Bates, he reluctantly turned the gun away from Corbin. Just moving his eyes around from one agent to the other hurt.

Bates rolled over, sat up, and began to put a hand to his head, when he saw Megamind, bleeding, scuffed, and extremely crabby, aiming the gun at him. Bates raised his hands.

“On your feet.”

Bates obeyed groggily.

“Now, very carefully, take out your gun and drop it. Now kick it away.”

Bates did so. He glanced toward the still form of his partner. “What did you do?” he rumbled.

Megamind's lip curled. “Don't worry. Your boyfriend’s alive,” he said sourly. His arms shook. He had to readjust Minion's bowl. He wanted so badly to hold it with both arms, it would make it so much easier. He could feel his back curving over and his shoulders sagging as he struggled against gravity and attrition.

“Take his coat, Sir,” Minion said.

Megamind would have sighed heavily, but it would have hurt too much. “You have a one-track mind, Minion.”

“So what? It's cold.”

“You heard him,” he snapped at Bates. “Coat! Let it fall off your shoulders and onto the ground.”

Bates moved sluggishly and stumbled. Megamind nearly pulled the trigger and blew his head off. _Easy, easy, easy,_ he told himself, sweat rolling down his temples. _He's groggy from the blow to the head._

“How's the other one, Minion?” he murmured.

“Still right where you left him, Sir.”

Everything was taking too long. The whole fight couldn't have lasted more than five minutes, though it felt like eons, as if he'd been fighting for hours and hours, but there must be cameras and guards inside the building. Even the laziest security guard was bound to notice that something was wrong sooner or later.

He glared at Bates as he shrugged the coat off. With an impatient jerk of the gun, he motioned him away from the car.

“Keys,” Minion murmured.

God, he almost forgot the keys. “Drop the keys on the ground,” Megamind said.

Bates fished them out and the keys landed with a little clink.

After he made Bates lie down, Megamind hobbled over to the keys and snagged them with two fingers. He wished he had three eyes, one for Corbin, one for Bates, and another so he could see what the hell he was doing. He was sure that Minion was doing his best to keep an eye on Corbin, but he would feel a lot better once they were in the vehicle.

The back door was still hanging open. There was a divider between the front and back seats; he’d have to get in through a front door. It’d be a hell of thing if he went through all this and couldn’t get into the driver’s seat. He slammed the back door and went around to the driver’s side.

Getting the front door unlocked with his hands full was a herculean feat, but he got it done and deposited Minion on the seat, then went back to get the coat, always facing his enemies. Minion would never let him hear the end of it if he left the stupid coat behind.

He leaped into the driver's seat, slammed the door, and immediately hit the button that locked all the doors. Exactly one second later Corbin grabbed the door handle.

 _I knew it,_ Megamind thought, shoving the key in the ignition. _What a maniac! He can't stand to lose!_

He gave Corbin a savage grin. “Let's see how fast _you_ heal, fed!” he shouted through the glass, drunk with victory. He turned the key and the engine roared to life. “Remember me when you look in the mirror! Ha ha ha!”

Corbin yanked at the handle and pounded on the glass. Gleefully, Megamind shot him a one-fingered salute, hit the gas, and tore away with squealing tires.

The enraged, bloody face fell fast behind and he cackled until he was wheezing. The eupohoria! The elation! The absolute spontaneous outpouring of endorphins! Stickin' it to the man!

As he tore through the parking garage, Megamind glimpsed some people rushing out of some doorway or other but they were hardly worthy of notice. He sent the car crashing through the guard rail at the entrance and plunged out into the street, forcing a couple of early morning commuters off the road. The blaring horns and screeching tires were like applause in his ears.

His triumphant escape was marred only slightly when he pulled over several blocks later to adjust the seat forward.

\- - - - - -

It seemed to take no time at all before the sedan crashed against the concrete barrier just outside the Kum 'n Go gas station, scattering pieces of broken headlight across the sidewalk.

Megamind looked blankly at the surprised, staring faces peering out of the windows of the building. _What am I doing here?_ he wondered. He had come directly to this place for no other reason than that he had no place left to go. And, perhaps, to say good bye. Ronnie wasn't the brightest bulb on the tree, but he and Minion had found a small refuge here. Though Ronnie was not exactly a friend, and their interactions were hardly a relationship of equals, it had been nice to hang out with someone who wasn't trying to capture, betray, or run away from them.

Pushing open the door he almost fell out onto the ground. The agony pulled him under in a tidal wave. Bracing himself with his arms against the door and the seat, he hung there while the constellations swung ponderously over him.

He blinked at the curious sight of stars falling through the air. Oh. It was sleeting.

“Sir! Sir, are you all right?” Minion cried.

He swallowed. His throat felt like a thousand deserts. “Minion,” he mumbled. “I am of a species known for its toughness and resiliency, correct?”

“Oh, yes, Sir, definitely.”

Megamind inhaled a tiny bit. If he were careful, the pain dulled from excruciating to merely agonizing. “Oh, good. Good. So when does it start? The resiliency. Because I would really like it to start now.”

“Well... I don't know if that means pain-free, Sir...it's sort of...”

“Just a rhetorical question, Minion.”

Stiffly, Megamind gathered the coat over one arm, picked up Minion, and gripped the gun. Padding into the station, his eyes widened at the reflection in the window and his steps slowed. He only knew it was him because there could not possibly be another large headed, blue-skinned boy in the entire city. Or the world for that matter. With blood plastering his face and purple bruises making his head swell in odd places, he looked like he'd been dragged under several cars, or else was the victim of a virulent paint ball attack.

The bright lights caused a stab of pain in his head that made him wince. His vision doubled and for a second he saw multiple aisles and about ten customers and two or three Ronnies all looking at him. He shook his head to clear it and the multiple images disappeared back into five customers, four aisles, and one Ronnie. All eyes were on him, and especially on the gun, which was no surprise.

“Everybody out,” he snarled, or tried to. What came out of his throat was more of a croak. He glared around at the motionless customers.

“Sir, maybe you should step away from the entrance,” Minion whispered.

Oh yes, that could help. Megamind casually took two steps to the side and made a short angry gesture with the gun. Even though he didn't aim it at anybody, its mere presence was enough to ensure that they all filed past at just short of a run.

Ronnie, almost as green as Minion, began to come out from behind the counter.

“Not you,” Megamind said, a little more harshly than he intended. Ronnie stood still.

He swallowed. That sandpaper feeling was back in his mouth, worse than ever, and his throat was killing him. “I need a favor, Ronnie,” he croaked, and grimaced at the harsh sound. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to take your car, poor substitute that it is. And I will need you to stock it with water bottles.”

He felt Minion's bowl slipping out of his grasp and he hugged it close with both arms, gun arm wrapped awkwardly around it.

Ronnie fidgeted. “Uh...maybe you better sit down,” he said.

“I'd love to, Ronnie, but that's not an option at this point. I'm in a hurry.”

Megamind watched a series of troubled emotions pass across Ronnie's face.

“Well, it's just that, your... your dad was here a little while ago, and I kinda think...”

This was too much. Megamind would've clapped a hand over his face except they were full of gun and Minion. Wearily he rubbed his gun wrist over his forehead.

“So old warden was here?” he said. Ronnie nodded. He would've laughed except it would have hurt too much. Not that long ago getting a hold of the warden had looked to be his only hope of escaping from Corbin's clutches, but now Megamind could see it for the false haven that it was. The warden couldn't help him.

A few minor questions buzzed weakly in his mind. When had the warden been there. How did he know that he and Minion had been frequenting this place. It was idle curiosity at this point, nothing more.

“Ronnie,” he said quietly. “I'm in a hurry. Some large, angry men from your government will, sooner or later, find that sedan I've left rather conspicuously parked outside your store. I have to take your car, and the water, and I'm afraid I won't be paying for it this time. And if you know what's good for you, you will keep our...shool sessions to yourself. If you mention it to those large, angry men, they'll most likely put you through some very uncomfortable interrogation procedures. I realize this may be an inconvenience, but that's the best advice I can give you.”

Ronnie stared at him, face ashen, the struggle with his conscience passing across his face. _What's this fool waiting for?_ he thought irritably. _Clearly his feeble mind is finding it hard to grasp the intricacies of the situation._ The gun twitched in his hand.

“Ronnie,” he said sharply. “It's just lying. An aspiring lawyer should be good at that.” He hefted the gun, aiming it at the ceiling. “I really don't want to make this look like a _real_ robbery. But I can, if you like.” He fixed him with a glare.

Ronnie sprang into action. Megamind followed him out to his station wagon in the back of the station and watched him put a six pack of bottled water on the front seat. He instructed him to pour more water into Minion's containment unit to top it off. Ronnie did so with shaking hands, slopping it in and losing about half a bottle onto the ground. Megamind sent him scurrying back inside, and then he crawled into the front seat.

“I think you scared him, Sir,” Minion said sadly. He looked over at Megamind and caught his breath.

Megamind's forehead lay against the wheel but his face was hidden behind the whitened knuckles gripping it. “There wasn't... time to...put on a happy face and... jolly him along,” Megamind mumbled.

“Sir,” Minion said. “Go back inside. Tell Ronnie to call an ambulance.”

“I just need a minute,” he mumbled.

“Sir, please. _Please,”_ Minion whispered. “You need help. And I can't do _anything.”_

“Don't worry, filet mignon. You've done enough.”

Minion tried again, and spoke a little more forcefully. “Sir, you _have_ to go back inside. Ronnie can even call the warden, he...”

  
“The warden is of no use to us,” Megamind said, lifting his head to look at his faithful friend.

Minion's forehead wrinkled and he looked close to tears. “He can too! I know you don't get along with him, Sir, but he always looks out for you! For us! He can...”

“Do I have to explain _everything?”_ Megamind said wearily. “If I turn around and go back now, what do you think will happen? We'll be back in our cozy little cell, and someday soon Corbin will show up at the prison gates with _paperwork.”_ His mouth twisted. “A warrant, or evidence, or transferral of custody. Some stupid thing. And you can be sure that all of it will be nice and legal. And the warden will hand us over. I don't mean he would _want_ to,” he added hastily as Minion opened his mouth to protest again. “But he won't have any _choice._ If the paperwork looks legitimate, he has to obey. He has to follow the law.”

In the privacy of his own head he wondered if the warden would be all that sorry to see the back of him. He didn't really think it was true, but he feared it was, and the thought that the old man would be relieved to have an excuse to hand him off to someone else was painful.

It was one thing to turn his back on the old man. It felt quite different if it was the other way around.

“The warden is a good man, and he has to obey the law,” Megamind said, turning the key in the ignition. “And what we need is the help of a total bastard who has no regard for authority.”

Minion hadn't been Minion all this time without recognizing a leading line when he heard one.

“And how are we going to find someone like that, Sir?”

Megamind's mouth twitched as he pushed the stick into reverse and he gave him a sly glance. “You're lookin' at him, Minion.”

\- - - - -

Megamind was running on fumes. On vapors. On the fumes of vapors. On the ghosts of the fumes of vapors. Set out one night to rob a robotics corporation, and end up getting your arm shredded by a rabid, genetically modified beast man, sent on a caffeine roller coaster, chased by cops, mocked by your nemesis, and delivered into the hands of your worst nightmare.

The corners of his mouth turned down. Metro Man had been the one to capture both him and Minion. He had a _lot_ to answer for. If that goody two shoes had minded his own business, none of this would have happened!

The car meandered from side to side, cutting across lanes, raising the ire of early morning commuters. It scraped along a guardrail for several yards, sending a shower of sparks across the window, until Megamind dreamily noticed and corrected the course.

The ringing in his ears was irritating the hell out of him, and then he realized it was coming from the pocket of the black trench coat.

After some more meandering paths across several lanes, he scrabbled a cell phone out of the pocket.

A stern female voice came out of it. “Are you there? Megamind, are you there?”

He grunted. For the life of him he couldn't imagine who it was.

“This is Alicia Montgomery of the FBI. I advise you to bring the vehicle to a halt and surrender. It is your only option.”

“Really,” he murmured. A negotiator. “From my side, it looks like there's plenty of other options available at this juncture.” He glanced around, but there didn't seem to be any flashing lights anywhere on the road, or helicopters overhead.

“This doesn't have to go any further,” she said in firm, reasonable tones. “It's not too late. If you surrender now, you...”

“Look, Miss, Mrs, or Mzzzzz. Montgomery,” he interrrupted wearily, putting a little insolent buzzing noise on the 'Ms.', “Generally I enjoy a spot of witty banter as much as the next desperate fugitive, but I'm really not in the mood right now. Especially since I don't care to get throttled again. Or is strangulation the usual method for capturing suspects?”

He rolled down the window and threw the cell phone out of it, to the accompanying soothing tones of the FBI negotiator still trying to be persuasive.

\- - - - -

He was so...so... something. Whatzit. The word. Lessee. Started with 'x'. Oh well, he'd think of it in a minute. Once he got a little sleep. Once he...

His forehead bounced off the steering wheel. Snapping his head up, he saw the back end of the car in front just in time. Yanking the wheel, he roared around it and raced on through a cloud of exhaust.

Oh yes. Exhausted, that was it. He was exhausted.

His breathing was harsh and stabs of pain constricted his chest. Had something broken? He tried to remember if he'd heard any suspicious cracking noises from any of the countless blows he'd endured.

Of course, driving this jalopy would be a lot easier if Minion weren't making such a racket. It was very distracting.

He glanced around to see what Minion was fussing about. Of course, the poor fish had gotten a number of hits himself, he may have sustained a head injury. He would be sure to check him out as soon as he could.

His eyes blinked at the empty seat. Where...? Oh, there he was, on the floor. How did he get down there? The top of the water looked frothy. What was he doing, swimming laps?

“Whu...” Megamind said. He swallowed through a dry painful throat and tried again. “Whassit, Minion.”

“I _SAID!_ GET _OFF!_ THE _FREEWAY!”_ Minion screamed.

Megamind frowned. That didn't sound like Minion. He squinted at him, trying to see if maybe he'd picked up the wrong talking fish by mistake. But that was silly, Minion was one of a kind, a really...

_“SIR, PULL OVER!”_

Megamind winced. “All right, all right. If you _insist._ Sheesh,” he grumbled. “Though I must say, Minion, I don't particurarr... particle... partig... really care for your tone of voice.”

A short slide down the exit ramp took them to a quiet side street, sleet icing up the windshield.

Dreamily he watched a street sign go by. Huh. Bad neighborhood. It was getting rather difficult to keep both hands on the wheel. For some reason his left hand kept slipping off. He passed several buildings, dark and silent. There was a general impression of cracked glass and boarded up windows. Street lights and building lights appeared to be optional.

The old habits of self-preservation caused him to check the rearview mirror and scan the shadows. A place like this, a car weaving and swerving all over the road was like blood in the water to sharks. But the streets were deserted. The early hours of the morning coupled with the sleet downpour made even the most die-hard criminals want to stay in bed.

Good thing too, because his last few wisps of energy were depleted. He managed to hold on until he found an alley, black as pitch, and drove into it, drained to the bone. He turned the car off and, lying down on the front seat, he reached down to the floor and began to pick up Minion from the floor.

“Sir, lock the doors,” he urged.

Megamind did so robotically, without even complaining, which frightened Minion almost as much as anything else that had happened this ghastly night.

Megamind picked up Minion, pulled the trench coat over his legs, and lay down, curling around Minion in a huddle, shivering.

“I don't feel very good,” he whispered. “Think I'm gonna pass out now.” After a moment he mumbled, “Min'n. Ever tell you. Fantastic fish.”

Minion’s eyes filled with tears. “Sir, do you want some water? Sir?”

There was no answer.

Minion listened to the soft pattering of the sleet hitting the windows. He pressed himself against the curve of the bowl and listened to Sir's ragged breathing. After a while he relaxed a little, but only a little. He hadn't heard any bubbling sounds, which he'd read could happen if a lung got punctured.

He ached all over. The places where his scales had been scraped off burned and throbbed.

Megamind groaned in his sleep.

Minion set his jaw. _Next time, I'm goin' for Corbin's throat,_ he thought grimly.

\- - - - - - -

A couple of hours later, the unluckiest thief in Metro City spotted the car as he trudged home from a party. His hangover hadn't quite gotten its claws into him yet, and the car was in a secluded area and looked to be easy pickings, especially when he got closer and saw that the driver's side window was open a crack.

He got his fingers around the edge and forced it down, pausing when he got a good look inside. The coat that had been carelessly tossed over the front seat seemed to have someone sleeping under it, and then he heard the growl.

He had just enough time to think 'dog', when a disembodied head leaped out of the sleeping figure's arms in an explosion of water and bit his ear off.

Minion fell on the trench coat that covered Megamind’s legs when the man hit his head on the ceiling. The fading screams filled him with a grim satisfaction. _Guess I showed him!_

He spat, then wriggled painfully back into the containment unit. Blecch. He'd had enough of biting people for one day, really.

 


	21. Rude Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.  
> Caution: chapter contains description of severed body part. (I'm probably being overcautious, but there it is.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've had a perfectly wonderful evening, and this wasn't it." -Groucho Marx

 

Nudge.

“Sir?”

Nudge.

“Sir, wake up.”

A couple of slightly harder nudges touched off a miniature nova of pain in his chest.

“Sir, _please._ There's been sort of...um...an incident. You have to wake up.”

The ping pong ball of consciousness made a few passes back and forth inside his skull, and quickly blossomed into one mother of a headache. His eyelids squeezed shut a little harder, which wrinkled the skin of his forehead, which made his entire face hurt. He opened his mouth and said:

“...”

Parched did not even come close to describing how his mouth and throat felt. He would have to invent a new word, one that meant “so-dry-you'd-have-to-add-water-just-to-even-get-anywhere-  _near_ -parched” was how parched his throat felt.

He swallowed and whimpered, face crinkling with pain. His throat. Like knives.

Automatically he reached up with a leaden hand and hissed in a tight breath as his fingertips touched the bruises that circled his neck. All these little movements triggered a cascade of escalating pain throughout his body. Only his right arm seemed to be free of complaints, mainly because it had fallen asleep, and his feet had turned to wood.

“Uuurrrhn,” he wheezed. Ah, there was his voice. He swallowed again, wincing.

An arctic wind shot up his back. He clawed at the blanket and yanked it up to his chin, shivering.

“Sir, I hate to wake you,” Minion's muffled voice said from somewhere around his armpit, “but we really, _really_ need to leave.”

“Koze z'door,” he whispered. What the hell was wrong with this blanket? It was so stiff. Nothing felt right, his teeth felt like they'd been freeze-dried and covered in moss, and Minion had left the damn door open. He wondered why they were sharing a bed again. Minion must've had a nightmare. Or something.

“Sir, I _can't,”_ Minion said. “I don't have any arms. Remember?”

The tremor of worry in Minion's voice, along with his cryptic remark about not having arms, wormed its way into his head and wouldn't leave. He cracked open one crusted eye. Gray light shone through the windows. And that wasn't right either. The lair didn't have windows.

He moved his leg and his foot thumped against a molded plastic panel covered with vinyl. What was a car door doing at the foot of his bed? He couldn't remember doing any extra detailing lately.

He'd figure it out later. If he lay really still, he could just drift, and maybe even fall asleep again. But Minion better get himself back in that robot suit and get that door closed.

A stream of water hit him in the neck and soaked his shirt.

“Hurh! Augh!” he panted, flinging back the blanket. Minion peered at him sheepishly.

“Ready to go, Sir?” he quavered.

“What'd you do that for?” he croaked. Geez, he sounded like a...crow...

Corbin.

Disjointed images drifted through his head. He raised a hand to his throbbing jaw and looked at the bandage on his left arm, stiff with blood.

The woods. Ulrich and his slashing claws. Sudoku. The marathon chase with half the city's police force on his heels. Metro Man's stupid smirk. Wachowski's fist, he was a lefty, there was a wedding ring on it, Megamind had gotten a good look at it, repeatedly. Corbin's livid, tooth-marked face, promising extreme pain and possible dismemberment, as Megamind flipped him off and gunned the engine and left him behind in a cloud of exhaust...

Sleet pattered against the windshield. Some came in the open window and landed on the trench coat covering his legs. Not his usual fluffy blanket, then. A coat, stolen from Bates.

He gazed blearily at the unfamiliar dashboard. A car. Not the lair.

The confused memories of the previous night's events slowly tumbled into place. No wonder Minion didn't have any arms. The robot suit had been confiscated by the feds, the de-gun taken by the police.

But he had another gun, didn't he? Where was the semi-automatic?

Slowly he propped himself on his tingling right arm. Minion helpfully rolled into the space under his arm to try to lever him up.

“My head,” he whispered. “Hurts.” Everything hurt, really. The head was merely a convenient starting point. His torso felt like one giant bruise.

“Up we go, there we are,” Minion said in a sing-songy way, and wedged the containment unit a little more firmly under his armpit so he couldn’t lie down again. Megamind’s ribs throbbed in protest.

“Ow,” he muttered. Minion grimaced apologetically.

Megamind shifted his frozen feet out from under the coat onto the floor, first one then the other, and began to raise himself more or less upright.

“Water bottles are on the floor, Sir. They sort of slid off. So up, up, up we get,” Minion said with forced cheer.

“Not the sing-songy voice, Minion. I hate the sing-songy voice,” he mumbled, then glanced down and froze.

Something small and pale lay on the black fabric of the trench coat.

The chill started somewhere at the base of his spine and worked its way upward, and it had nothing to do with the wind that buffeted in through the window.

Minion  _had_ said there was an incident. This had incident written all over it. 

“Is that an ear?” he whispered.

Minion fluttered his fins in mingled pride and embarrassment. “Umm, well, yes. Half an ear, anyway.”

“Oh. Yes. Half an ear, important distinction,” he said hoarsely. None of his jumbled memories included severed ears. At least it wasn't one of  _his_ ears. Whose was it?

“Because, see, I think my bottom incisor sort of caught it at an angle,” Minion said helpfully.

Megamind stared at it. This needed close watching. What if it fell on the floor? What if he  _stepped_ on it?

“Wasn't that much blood, at least if...”

“If you are trying to make me throw up, you are doing a wonderful job,” Megamind croaked.

“Oh! Heh heh. Sorry, Sir.”

“So, this incident. What---”

“Some guy got the window down and tried to get in, but I stopped him, Sir. Stopped him  _good.”_ Minion nodded firmly.

“Well done. Yes. Fine,” he said in a slightly too high voice. The thing was lying on the  _coat_ and the coat was lying on his  _legs. Touching_ him.

Megamind eased out from under the coat, calculating the distance to the window. He could try flipping it out, but what if he missed and the thing hit the edge and bounced right back in? He needed a larget opening.

Carefully standing on the seat, holding onto the ceiling as a wave of dizziness threatened to send him tumbling, he stepped one foot over towards the driver's side door, taking care to avoid as much contact with the air molecules surrounding the ear as possible. Balancing on the seat he shifted his weight so he could bend down and reach the door handle. Grabbing hold of the dashboard under the steering wheel, he groped for the door handle with the other one. His left hand felt like it belonged to somebody else, but after a few clumsy grabs he snagged the handle and pushed the door open. Carefully he stepped back over the coat, gripped the edge of it and, with a firm flipping motion, sent Minion's horrible trophy sailing out into the alley.

Shuddering, he swung the door closed and rolled up the window, swallowing bile. He dragged the coat over himself again, even though it was contaminated with ear germs.

“Water,” he mumbled.

“Right  _there,_ Sir. Remember?” Minion nodded down at the six pack of water splayed on the floor on the passenger side, the dark shape of Corbin's gun lying next to it.

Megamind put the gun back on the seat and pulled a bottle off its plastic loop. Twisting the cap off made spots dance across his vision but he got it off and lifted the bottle. Tilting his head back was almost impossible. His neck was killing him. Swallowing hurt too, but more like emery boards instead of knives, so that was an improvement. He tried to go slowly, but soon he was chugging it.

“Not so fast!” Minion said.

The water burned cold all the way down but he didn't stop until the bottle was empty. Tossing it aside he curled up against the window, pulled the coat up to his shoulders, and leaned his aching head against the cold glass. Engaging in just the right amount of shallow breathing was about all he could handle at the moment.

Minion rolled the containment unit against his hip. “Sir, can we go now?”

“Tired,” Megamind mumbled. If he could just get this pick-ax out of his skull maybe he could string a few thoughts together.

Minion nudged him again.

“If you do that one more time,” Megamind growled without opening his eyes, “I am going to throw you out on your  _ear.”_

“We need to get out of here, Sir,” Minion said. “Maybe that robber won't come back, but someone's gonna be at least a little curious! And...and I think there's gravel under my scales. And I'm cold, too, Sir.” Minion didn't like to complain, but it had been a long night. He hadn't been able to sleep at all, and he was growing increasingly worried about their situation because, after all, it wasn't like ears got bitten off every day. Someone was bound to wonder. Plus he was pretty sure there was some gravel trapped under his scales. He could feel something little and pebbly moving under his skin every time he stirred his fins.

“I think...I think we should go visit one of our uncles. You know, just for a little bit!” he said hastily, as Megamind scowled at him. “Maybe Uncle Julio or Vic or Pudge. Or Harry. We need to go someplace warm.”

Megamind gave him a calculating look. “Harry Chambers?” he said. “When did he get out?”

“A week ago, I think.”

“Oh yes. He was up for parole.” Megamind would have raised an eyebrow at Minion but even his darn eyebrows hurt. “And you just happen to know all of our parolee uncles' phone numbers and addresses, do you? Despite my assertion that we do not nor ever shall require the assistance of anyone, ever?”

Minion fidgeted. “Um, maybe, yes. I just might happen to know that sort of thing, yes,” he said a little defiantly.

_Waiting for me to dig such a deep hole I couldn't get out with a power shovel, is that it?_ Megamind thought, but didn't say. Minion always looked for safety valves.

He watched the sleet solidifying on the windshield. He wasn’t the only one hurting. Huge red scrapes ran down the faithful ichthyoid’s side and under his belly, complimenting the dark green bruise on the side of his head. Megamind knew that they couldn’t sit there forever. If there was gravel under Minion’s skin it would have to be taken out, and soon.  
“Not Uncle Vic,” he said eventually. “He'd turn in his own mother for a sub sandwich. Let me think about it for a moment.”

He lifted his head as a couple of people appeared at the end of the alley, shuffling and gesturing. One of them lifted an arm in their direction. They could have been just people meeting by chance on the street. Out for a little walk on this cold, icy morning. He gripped the steering wheel and straightened up.

“What is it, Sir?”

“Company,” Megamind muttered. Whether they were friends of the one-eared burglar or curiosity seekers, or innocent passersby (ha! not likely in this neighborhood) it mattered not.

His teeth flashed in a brief grin as he looked at Minion. “No rest for the wicked. Hang on, Minion.”

“Hang on to what?” Minion muttered, then the containment unit lurched as Megamind gunned the engine and threw the car into drive. The curiosity seekers scattered. The car shot out of the alley and disappeared around the corner.

\- - - - - -

The warden awoke and lay staring at the ceiling for a long time, sinuses pounding. He never could sleep in, even on a weekend, even when he was sick. This was shaping up to be the worst sinus infection he'd ever had.

The bed felt colder with Joyce gone. Gone back to the hospital, two days ago. She'd been better for a short while, to the point where they'd even resumed a physical relationship, and every night became a brief, welcome respite from the drama that dominated their lives.

He'd almost felt happy again.

Then she turned inward again, and said she didn't feel right, and could no longer muster the energy to get out of bed, and their daughter Melanie called him at work to tell him that Joyce had asked to be taken back to the hospital.

Was it him? Was he just so difficult to live with that he'd driven his wife crazy? Melanie was shocked that he even voiced such doubts.

“Dad, of course not!” she'd cried, and talked at length about hormonal imbalances and medications and whatnot. And he nodded and tried to listen. She was pre-med, after all, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he simply was not doing enough.

He felt like he'd been stamping out fires for the past twenty years. He'd put one out and another would flare up. Failure stared him in the face at every turn. He tried to provide a stable existence for Melanie and Sammy, and hoped like hell they established lives for themselves and got away from the chaos that had engulfed their older brother Dan, their mother, and, of course, their odd little foster brother, who even now was wreaking havoc wherever he went.

He swung his legs off the bed and shuffled into his slippers and out into the hall. His seventeen year old son Sammy closed the door to his bedroom, grunted 'good morning' and began to go down the stairs.

“You're up early,” Parker mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Then he frowned at the phone receiver lying on the hall table next to its cradle. “You do this? Why is the phone off the hook?”

“Mel did it. She said you needed rest,” Sammy said over his shoulder. It seemed to Parker that Sammy stomped down the stairs with unnecessary roughness, but that was probably because every footstep pounded him in the brain. He hung up the phone and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, the phone was ringing.

“You are a hard man to get a hold of,” the irritated voice on the other end snapped.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Bentley,” Parker sighed. Any day he got a call from a member of the Alien Oversight Committee was a bad day. “It is a Saturday after all. I---”

“It is imperative that we revisit your security measures immediately,” Bentley interrupted.

Parker rubbed his forehead. “And this couldn't wait until Monday?”

Bentley snorted. “I need to be able to tell the mayor that our prison is capable of holding him, especially since we still don't know how he got out of his cell in the first place! While you sit there twiddling your thumbs, he could be waltzing out the prison doors again!”

Parker let his hand fall to his side. Again? Bentley's outraged tone was finally sinking in.

“What? You mean...they caught him?”

Bentley exploded. “Good Lord, man! It's all over the news! Haven't you heard anything? Metro Man captured him when he tried to blow up a warehouse in the wee hours of the morning! Or a bakery. Or maybe it was a shoe store. I fear the exact details escape me at the moment, but nevertheless, for a man who claims to be so concerned about this delinquent, you seem competely incapable of keeping up with current events. I must say, warden, if you can't stay on top of things, then I say it's high time...”

“Call you back,” Parker muttered, and hung up on the squawking Bentley. He floated downstairs in a daze.

Sammy lay on the couch with a bowl of cereal on his chest, watching cartoons. Parker took the remote and began flipping channels.

“Hey!” Sammy protested. Parker ignored him.

The picture of an anchorwoman appeared on screen. “...minor injuries, and were released. Metro Man is credited with preventing the spread of the fire to nearby buildings.” The picture on the screen changed to show a grainy video of Metro Man lifting a tanker truck into the sky amidst billowing smoke. The picture changed to a firefighter.

“Yeah, if that tanker had gone up, it woulda been pretty bad,” he said. “There was a burning car next to it. The guys from the warehouse had it pretty well contained, but...”

Parker kept flipping channels in a flurry of impatience.

“...confusion, Officer Griffin was shot by one of her fellow...”

  
“...anonymous tip led to...”

“...laser vision to seal the leak, and prevented another two thousand gallons of molasses from flooding the...”

“Something happen Dad?” Sammy grumbled. “What'd the twerp do this time?”

“They caught him. But where is he?” Parker muttered. “Did they catch Minion too?”

Melanie walked into the living room with her car keys in hand, pulling on her coat. “Oh Dad, I made an appointment for you at the walk-in clinic for 10:30. I need to run to the store, can I get...”

Parker tossed the remote at Sammy. “You let me sleep through all of this? Taking the phone off the hook? While all this is going on?”

Melanie's eyes widened, startled.

“They caught the twerp, I guess,” Sammy muttered.

“Quit calling him that,” Parker snapped. He rounded on Melanie again. “I had to hear about it from Bentley of all people! What, the cops couldn't send someone to the house? Why didn't you wake me?”

“I haven't even heard...I haven't...” Melanie gasped.

Parker stormed out of the room.

Slowly she sank onto one of the easy chairs. Sammy lifted his spoon and let the soggy cereal drip back into the bowl. They could hear their father shouting into the kitchen phone.

“Nice try, Mel,” Sammy said, turning the channel back to the cartoon he'd been watching. “Maybe if you start a meth lab in the basement or mug a few people he'll start paying attention to you.”

She glared at him. “Aren't you a little old for cartoons? Grow up already.”

With a jingle of keys she got to her feet and hurried out of the house.

“When I graduate I am  _so_ out of here,” Sammy muttered.

 


	22. Safe Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Overexcited? No! I'm getting very calmly worried that someone might shoot me!" -Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Good Omens

 

Wayne carefully closed the door to his room and took a few steps down the hall before rising into the air. He didn't really feel like flying but he soared lightly over the thick carpeting, so he wouldn't disturb Mom and Dad. He was so big that he sometimes made the floor creak, and he didn't want to awaken them. He had used his super hearing just long enough to hear that they were still asleep, their breathing steady and deep, and then he tuned them out. He was very careful about using his super senses in the house, since he'd accidentally seen and heard them being intimate a couple of times, and did not want to repeat the experience. Spying was Very Bad.

But he really wanted to avoid his father, at least for a little while.

It had been a very unpleasant scene when he flew back into his room last night. Well, it was really very early in the morning, and he hadn't bothered scanning his room before entering, so he'd been surprised to see his father sitting on his bed, there in the dark, and his mother, arms crossed across her stomach and looking worried.

Lord Scott gave him a stony look. “Snow emergency's over, Wayne,” he said. “Explain why you have broken curfew. I am dying to hear all about it.”

Wayne swallowed. “I had to help, people needed me, Dad, there was an explosion, and I caught Megamind,” he said all in a rush.

“Oh,” Lady Scott lifted a hand to her mouth. Lord Scott sighed heavily and pursed his lips. “And it was worth breaking your word?” he said.

Wayne felt his stomach sink into his new white boots. Didn't the fact that he'd caught the guy who vandalized their house mean anything? Heart beginning to pound in his ears, he squared his shoulders. This was it.

“When people call for help, I'm going to answer that call,” he said quietly. “Curfew or no curfew.” Holding his father's gaze was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and he'd once lifted an entire building off its foundation.

Lord Scott looked at him for a moment, then he got up and left the room. Lady Scott walked over to Wayne and laid a hand on his forearm.

“I'm very proud of you, Wayne. Very proud,” she whispered and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He automatically leaned down a little so she could reach his cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmured. And he meant it, he really appreciated her support, he really did, but his father's stony silence weighed more heavily on his heart than the anchorage of the Mackinac Bridge he'd once saved from collapse.

Wayne walked through the living room, turning on the television as he went by, but he kept the volume low. He'd be able to hear it from anywhere in the house. He headed into the kitchen, stomach rumbling. He could have used his X-ray vision to see what was in the fridge without opening it, but that wasn't as satisfying as physically opening the door and rummaging around all the containers, even though his dad was forever grumbling that he left the door open for too long, and why _didn't_ he just use his X-ray vision and save a little on electricity?

Peering into a Tupperware container, he straightened in surprise as a familiar name caught his ear. He turned and went back out to the living room to look at the somber anchorwoman on the screen, who had a smaller picture of a grinning Megamind over her shoulder.

“Megamind’s whereabouts are unknown, but he he was last spotted heading south on Highway 10, and is believed to still be in the city. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see Megamind, do _not_ approach, but leave the area immediately and contact police. And now, back to the weather.”

Wayne frowned, chewing on a leftover sandwich. That was weird.

\- - - -

Dr. Ritchi turned off the television. “That's it. You are _not_ going skating.”

_“God,_ Dad!” Roxanne cried, slamming her spoon down on the kitchen table. She turned to her mother, standing by the sink. “Mo-o-om!”

Mrs. Ritchi grimaced and shook her head, but she kept her back to the counter, gripping it with both hands. “I don't think it's a good idea either, honey.”

“This is totally sexist,” said Roxanne, getting to her feet.

“Oh, don't be ridiculous,” Mrs. Ritchi said in exasperation.

“How, exactly, is this sexist?” Dr. Ritchi said, sighing irritably.

“You're not making Nathan stay home,” Roxanne said, pointing at her eleven year old brother. “You let him do whatever he wants!”

Nathan looked up from his dirt bike magazine. “I do what?” he said, blinking.

“Nate's not the one getting stalked.”

“I'm not either!” Roxanne yelled. “It was a total coincidence!”

“Well, until these 'coincidences' stop,” said Dr. Ritchi, “we're just going to have to keep you a little more close to home.”

Mrs. Ritchi clasped her hands together and took a step toward her. “Roxanne, we...” she said, then sighed and let her hands fall to her sides as her daughter hurried out of the room.

Roxanne had a feeling that girls who were fighting sexist stereotypes probably shouldn't burst into tears and run out of the room when they didn't get their way, but it was so _unfair._

She slammed the door to her bedroom but managed to _not_ fling herself across the bed. That would be so _typical._ Stereotypical. She paced around the room, scrubbing angrily at the tears running down her face, then she got her journal out of the desk, curled up on the bed, and wrote in it until she felt better.

How could he be stalking her? Ridiculous! Okay, that night at the high school _was_ kind of weird. But after dissecting the event in excruciating detail with her friends, they'd all come to the conclusion that it really was all a big, weird coincidence. Megamind was probably trying to steal the school's computers or something, and they'd stumbled across his little break-in attempt. When Minion came charging out of the shadows they'd just about peed their pants!

After they'd gotten over their fright, Roxanne felt as if the whole thing took on the feel of a trip through a haunted house, or even a roller coaster. Scary, but nothing truly dangerous. Her friends had, she felt, gone on and on about it a little too long, to the point where she began to get annoyed with them. They'd teased her about having an alien admirer, but they were just kidding. Actually, she wished they would knock it off. For a moment she was glad that she wasn't going skating with Cheryl after all. She often greeted her with a smarmy grin and asked if she'd heard from her secret admirer lately.

Roxanne's teeth clenched. Her parents were so aggravating! After that close encounter at the high school, her dad had totally freaked out, insisting on driving her to school every morning and picking her up afterwards, and not letting her go anywhere. It was so stupid! Like she was grounded. After a few days his vigilance waned, and things got back to normal, though he'd badger her about safety and protecting herself whenever the little blue monster did something that got him on the news.

One good thing about the whole escapade was that her parents had gotten her a cell phone, for emergencies. Now _that_ was awesome, though her dad seemed to think it was as fragile as an egg and lectured her about not dropping it. She was the first one of all her friends to get one.

Roxanne cast a look at the closed door of her bedroom, then put on Natalie Merchant CD. She dug the phone out of her purse and dialed Cheryl's number.

Later there was a very unpleasant scene when Cheryl and her big sister pulled up down the street and her parents caught Roxanne sneaking out of the house. She got plenty of time to write about it in her journal.

\- - - - -

The reporters gathered in the Federal Building did not immediately recognize John Parker, but a man with three prison guards who walks into a lobby full of reporters is bound to get noticed. A few heads turned towards them, then one of them did a double take and called out:

“Warden! Can you tell us anything about Megamind's escape?”

Oh, he had plenty to say about the supposed escape attempt, but not to them. Hearing about it on the radio he could only hope that it was some kind of mistake. The boy couldn't possibly have escaped already, could he? From trained federal agents? And if it was a mistake, had something worse happened? He brushed past the reporters, with Security Chief Schmidt and the two other guards helping to make a shield around him, and walked briskly to the polished granite front desk.

Gary Winslow was a loyal, hard-working government employee and probably did not deserve to be the recipient of Parker's wrath. He'd been instructed to say 'no comment' to the press, but no one had briefed him on what to say to the angry man claiming to be Megamind's father. Who knew the alien even _had_ a father?

“I would like to know, if my son really has been taken into custody, why I was not notified! My phone may have been out of order, but you could have sent someone to the house! That's proper procedure when a minor is arrested, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Winslow said gloomily, gripping the edge of the security desk to keep his hands from fidgeting. He reached for the phone. “I think this is a matter best handled by the director? If you'll just hold on for...” Parker looked up, and Winslow turned in his seat.

“Oh, there's the director now,” he said with relief. “If you would ...hey!”

Parker strode past the desk and down the hall towards the group of people that had gotten off the elevator. Schmidt jerked his head at the other two guards and hurried after him. They exchanged grimaces, and followed with reluctance. They didn't feel they were getting paid enough to trespass on federal property, but they'd have to face Schmidt later if they didn't.

“Mr. Lewis!” the warden said loudly to catch his attention, and Matt Lewis looked up at him in alarm, his eyes wide behind thick glasses. He made a small gesture and one of the men began to slip to the back, but Parker, with a sudden sense of foreboding, marched right around the group and stopped the man before he could fade away.

He stared, shocked, at Agent Corbin. A tremendous purple bruise covered his forehead and stitches marched crazily over his swollen right cheek, across the bridge of his nose and down the other side, and over his upper lip, as if someone had tried to stamp a big gory clown smile on him but he had turned his head aside too quickly. His nose was so red it almost glowed.

Parker felt a hand close firmly on his arm and he tore his gaze away to look at Director Lewis.

“Mr. Parker, if you would come this way, please?” he said. It wasn't really a request, but Parker damn well wasn't going to be led off into some little room to get talked quietly at. Lewis was using a special, careful voice, the I'm-sorry-for-your-loss sort of voice that Parker himself had to use on some occasions, and he wasn't having any of it. On top of everything else he'd forgotten to take any painkillers before rushing out of the house and his sinuses were killing him. Dread blossomed in his stomach, and grew. Were they in the hospital? Were they...

He pulled his arm out of Lewis's grip. “Tell me what's going on right now.”

Lewis cast an unhappy glance toward the lobby, where the members of the press were lingering just beyond the front desk with ears cocked and eyes strained.

“I'm afraid that your ward and his friend escaped from custody a few hours ago,” he said quietly. “Agents Corbin and Bates were severely injured.”

Parker looked at Corbin again, who lifted an ice pack to his forehead. Bandages covered his knuckles.

“You hurt your hand on his face?” Parker said.

The patches of color on Corbin's face turned even darker. He stepped so close to Parker their noses almost touched.

“You see this? See this?” Corbin said, jabbing his finger at the fresh scars. “Little freak shoved a goddamn piranha in my face!”

“Maybe you'd like to take a swing at me? Someone closer to your own size,” Parker said. For a second he hoped he would. _He hits me, I'm pressing charges,_ Parker thought, blood roaring in his ears. _He hits me I'm...probably going to the hospital,_ the more sensible part of him chimed in. Parker's main form of exercise was pacing, while the size of Corbin's neck veins indicated that he got a lot of healthy, violent exercise on a regular basis.

Schmidt grabbed him by the shoulder and arm. “John, step back,” he said urgently. “This doesn't help.”

Hands pulled at Corbin as well, and the two angry men were separated, glaring at each other. Parker was damned if he was going to break eye contact! Minion must have been severely provoked to have bitten someone in the _face_. Corbin finally turned away to listen to the angry whispering from the FBI director.

_Yeah, get your stories straight,_ Parker thought furiously. _Make sure you're on the same page._

“I demand to speak to his superior,” Parker said. “That would be you?”

Lewis shook his head as if it pained him to admit it, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “No. The FBI doesn't have authority over DPI.”

Parker's head throbbed. “Then who's the DPI director?”

There was a tense silence. Then Lewis cleared his throat. “Because of staff limitations, it so happens that Agent Corbin is currently the acting director of the local DPI branch.”

A field agent, who also happened to be the head of the department? “Well, isn't that convenient,” Parker said quietly. They glared at each other for a moment, then Parker turned and strode back to the lobby, past his guards, past the front desk.

“Excuse me, you're Robert Chang, aren't you?” he said, walking up to the first familiar face.

“Yes, sir, that's right, KMCP News,” said Robert Chang, reporter's senses tingling, quickly straightening his tie. Parker gravely shook his outstretched hand. His cameraman swung the camera around, poised and ready. The rest of the media people edged closer, inexorably drawn by the scent of a scoop.

Parker introduced himself, then the reporter interrupted with an apologetically raised hand. “Do you mind if I interview you on tape, sir?”

“Not at all,” Parker said. With a fierce smile he gestured back at the knot of stony faced agents and the horrified Schmidt and the prison guards.

“I've just been informed that my fifteen year old foster son overpowered two armed, experienced federal agents and escaped. Isn't that amazing?”

“What is your son's name, sir?” Robert asked, lifting the microphone.

“Officially John Doe, but we all call him Blue,” Parker said brightly. “You know him better as Megamind, but I've never cared for that.” He was going to pour as much human interest on this story as possible.

“Is that why you're all here? To listen to what Director Lewis has to say?” said Parker. “There are a few questions I'd like to ask him myself. Not to mention the agents who were supposedly bringing Megamind here for questioning. How is it that a fifteen year old boy, who probably weighs about eighty pounds I might add, how is it that...”

“Excuse us, ladies and gentlemen!” Schmidt said loudly, grabbing Parker by the elbow. “The warden is _ill.”_

Schmidt buoyed him away from the crowd. Furious, Parker tried to twist out of his grip, but Schmidt had years of experience at subduing unruly inmates and easily propelled him through the big double door and out onto the front steps.

While the wind whipped sleet into their faces Schmidt hissed, “Would you quit burning every goddamn bridge? Think about your career! You have to work with these people, not feed some sob story to the press!”  
“Since being calm and reasonable hasn't been working, I figured getting mad as hell is worth a shot!” Parker snapped. “Did you see his face?”

Schmidt shuddered. “You could probably see it from Lansing. Just think, that could've happened to me. Or _you,”_ he added pointedly.

Parker gaped. “Are you serious?! You really think he would set Minion on somebody like that because he's afraid of going back to prison?”

Schmidt narrowed his eyes. “He was obviously desperate, John.”

“But why?” Parker cried. _“Why_ was he so desperate? It doesn't make any sense! And risking Minion's life? Just to escape?” Corbin had probably gone ballistic, getting a pointy-toothed fish shoved in his face. Hell, _anybody_ would. Blue and Minion must have known that. Blue wouldn't have risked Minion getting stomped just on a whim. The boy he knew could not have mutilated a man just to make an escape. Not Blue. There had to be another reason. There _had_ to.

Schmidt snorted. “Maybe you don't know him as well as you think.”

Parker looked at Walter Schmidt's set jaw. The boy had been desperate, Parker was sure of it, as sure as he was of the sleet soaking through his coat. He was going to have a hard time convincing anyone of that, though.

“Do you remember when he filled that balloon with cherry pie filling and dumped it on your head?” he said.

It had certainly been an unforgettable incident. Only Parker's intervention had saved the boy from a thrashing from Schmidt's belt. The security chief's face hardened. “What's your point, warden?”

“He could have filled that balloon with something a lot worse. Battery acid or something. But he didn't.” Of course, battery acid might have eaten right through the balloon, but Parker pressed on. “What I'm trying to say is that it was essentially a harmless prank. They've _all_ been pretty harmless.”

“Those explosions weren't harmless,” Schmidt said. “Blasted right through the wall. The one in the kitchen blew the doors off two freezers! And he just said he wanted to see if you could make flour explode.”

“But no one was injured! He usually made sure no one was around.”

Schmidt looked ready to point out that this was probably because the boy didn't want anyone raising inconvenient questions along the lines of 'Hey, what're you doing, kid?' so Parker again hurried on. “You really think that Blue would orchestrate a vicious, violent attack for no reason?”

Schmidt looked away and sighed. “I don't know, John. But the evidence is all over that guy's face.” He shook his head. “I know you want to get him back in one piece, but you better have some idea of _what_ you're getting back.” It beat Schmidt why his friend John cared so much about this delinquent, but the warden had a soft spot for the boy, and he took his responsibilities as guardian pretty seriously, while all Megamind did, as far as Schmidt could tell, was spit in his eye.

“Something is not _right,”_ Parker insisted. “They are not telling the truth.” He scowled through the glass at the federal agents, and Lewis talking to the reporters. Telling them of the escape of the dangerous alien fugitives, no doubt. Agent Corbin was nowhere to be seen.

Schmidt snorted. “You know, you're probably the only one left in town who still thinks he's just a misunderstood rascal with a little too much energy. What, you think they're hiding him somewhere?”

“I don't know! But I'm going to find out.” When he went to go back in, Schmidt grabbed his shoulder.

“Wait. Hold on.” The security chief sighed heavily. “Believe it or not, I don't want to see him get killed either, him or Minion. But right now, you got to focus on the facts,” Schmidt said. “Don't make any wild accusations. The kid's gone, however or why ever it happened, and they screwed up big time, first by not contacting you, even if your phone was off the hook, that's no excuse, they should have sent someone to your house. And lettin' a scrawny kid escape? That's gotta burn. They're gonna have to tell you _something._ So you go back in there, and make nice. Tell the friendly reporters that you've been sick...”

“For God's sake, Walt, what am I, an old man?” Parker snapped.

Schmidt raised an admonishing hand. “You _are_ sick, I can hear you wheezin', so just say you got all worked up, you didn't really mean to call them a bunch of incompetent yahoos, but you're sure the agents are doing the best they can, it's a tough job, yadda, yadda. Then go with Lewis, listen to what he has to say.”

“I'm not going to like it. Whatever it is,” Parker grumbled.

“Of course you're not gonna like it. That's when you sic your lawyer on 'em.” Schmidt grinned. “See? It all works out.”

As soon as the warden walked into the lobby, the microphones swung away from the FBI director and came his way. And he went through the motions and retracted his earlier, hasty statements, said that he was sure the feds were doing they best they could, no doubt they had done everything correctly and above board. Worries gnawed away in the back of his mind, while his mouth worked by itself, delivering vague responses to the questions.

Where were they? Were they all right?

\- - - -

“I don't need any help,” Megamind said.

“Right. All right,” the pharmacist said. The tip of the gun was very close. He could see straight down the barrel. He tried to uncross his eyes. “You don't need any help.”

“If you try to take Minion again, you will regret it,” Megamind said calmly, as if stating the most simple of facts.

“I hear you,” he said. If he nodded the gun might go up his nose.

“If you _must_ perform an act of goodwill, you can collect the following items for me. Are you listening? I would hate to have to repeat myself.”

“I'm listening.” The pharmacist focused hard. It was rather difficult to think of anything other than whether he would ever see his wife and children again.

“Six compress dressings, adhesive tape, two cloth tapes, tweezers, antiseptic...”

The items were standard ingredients for a first aid kit, fortunately, and easy for the pharmacist to remember.

“...and ibuprofen. _Lots_ of ibuprofen. You have tetracycline? Good. Some of that. And baby aspirin. Proceed.” The man hurried down the aisle to gather the items. Minion, in the crook of Megamind's arm, gazed up at his master's intent face with some concern. He had refused to leave Minion alone in the car, though it meant his hands would be full. Minion was touched by this show of devotion, but it was also worrying.

“I think he was trying to get you to sit down, Sir,” Minion murmured. He wasn't sure that Sir realized how _bad_ he looked. And not bad in a don't mess-with-me sort of way, either, it was more like train-wreck bad.

He glanced at the knot of people huddled in the back of the store. The swift movements of the pharmacist as he filled a plastic bag sounded unnaturally loud, even over the sound of the muzak playing a tinny version of “The Girl From Ipanema.” One of the trapped customers pressed a wad of tissues to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a wretched coughing fit.

“He tried to take you, Minion,” Megamind said, baring his teeth. A crack on his lip began bleeding again.

“Well, yes, but he might have been trying to be helpful,” Minion said in what he hoped were soothing tones. Tension vibrated off Sir like a heat wave.

“No one is going to take you,” Megamind growled.

“No, no, I'm sure they won't,” Minion muttered, glancing at the hostages. The customer ducked her head into her coat and shook with restrained coughs.

Minion was grateful they got out of there before anyone got shot.

\- - - -

The cockroaches in Harry Chambers's apartment scuttled across the floor, peacefully going about their business. They froze at the knock on the door. When nothing happened, they resumed their duties of looking for food, mates, and feeling for impending footsteps. After a moment they froze again, antennae quivering, as the locks on the door rattled. It went on for some time. Again, nothing happened, so they continued as they were before.

Cockroaches don't have much sense of the passage of time, being mainly concerned with the here and now, and whether or not an approaching tread means sudden death, but if they did, they would have noticed that a good fifteen minutes passed before the door was suddenly flung open.

They scattered. Megamind fell onto his hands across the threshold, then he reached around and dragged the containment unit with Minion in it over the sill, snagged a plastic bag and the trench coat with his wrist, crawled in, and pushed the door closed with his foot. Then, spent, he curled up on the pale linoleum floor and closed his eyes, panting with shallow breaths.

Minion looked warily around the dark hallway, and at the cockroaches who were peeking around with mild curiosity.

“This floor,” Megamind mumbled.

Minion glanced at him, but there didn't seem to be any more observations coming. The scrapes on his side and belly ached. He cleared his throat miserably. “Sir, I think you should get up off the floor now, don't you think you can...”

“Is disgusting,” Megamind said, dust poofing out away from his mouth, but he didn't open his eyes.

“Yes, yes, it is,” Minion said, scowling at the cockroaches. One of them came closer and put a little leg on Sir's outstretched hand. Minion scowled and rolled at it. It scurried away.

“I could kill for some dry socks,” Megamind mumbled. Holding onto the wall for support he got to his feet, and gathered up Minion and the bag.

“Don't turn on the light,” Minion warned.

“I know,” Megamind said testily. “No one's supposed to be home. Where is he, anyway?”

They looked around at the dingy apartment, roughly the same size and shape as a shoebox. No walls separated the rooms. Only the change from linoleum to flat brown carpet showed the difference between the kitchen and the living room, which doubled as the bedroom. A mattress lay in a corner, a tangle of blankets on it, and a mustard yellow plaid couch sat in the middle of the room, facing a television set, also on the floor. Two boxes dribbled clothes next to the couch. A half open door in the far corner revealed the sink of a cramped bathroom.

A gray rectangle of light from the kitchen window fell across a table with a warped surface and two folding chairs. Plastic clamshell containers and dirty dishes sat next to the mildewed sink. A great rust stain splashed up the side of the white refrigerator.

The murmur of a television from the apartment above was the only sound. The silence grated on Megamind's nerves. He could not believe they were safe. It was too normal, too quiet. Surely it was a trap, a trick. Any minute now the door would burst open and cops would come charging in, shouting. Or worse, the feds, with the newly-scarred Corbin at their head...

The refrigerator sprang to life with a rattle, making him jump. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. He couldn't stand there forever like some half-drowned cat!

He glanced back at the front door to see that he'd re-locked it, as if that would make any difference. Then he padded across the creaking linoleum and set his burdens on the table, shunting aside a pizza box. At least the grumbling refrigerator and the TV upstairs provided some cover noise.

In the cupboard he found a plastic cup emblazoned with a logo for the Summerville Casino. It hadn't taken long for Harry to get back to his old profession of losing as much money as possible. Making a face at the reddish water that came out of the tap, he gulped down an ibuprofen, and downed another whole glass, wincing at the sharp pain in his throat. There didn't seem to be enough water in the world to slake his thirst. He felt like he'd drunk enough water to fill the lake and he still didn't need to use the bathroom. Where was it all going?

He took the plastic drop cloth out of the bag and stretched it out on the table. “And don't roll all over it,” he ordered Minion, propping the bag against the containment unit to prevent Minion from doing just that. “It has to be clean. Who knows what your containment unit has touched.”

He washed his hands carefully with the dishwashing soap that was sitting on the back of the sink. From all of the plates, wrappers, and plastic clamshell boxes piled on the counter, it looked like Uncle Harry didn't use it much. He scrubbed about half a pound of grime out of his fingernails, then sat down at the table and took the bandages and things out of the bag.

At least there was a gas stove. He took his time sterilizing the tweezers in the blue flame, and then he went to wash his hands again.

“Sir, maybe I should wait. Your arm needs...”

“Have to get that gravel out,” Megamind said curtly, rinsing. “The last thing you need is an infection. I'm fine.” Besides, he needed to get it done before he collapsed. His head and torso hurt abominably, and his strength was coming and going in fits and starts. He had to gather his resources for each task. He'd had a bad turn at the pharmacy, when he just sauntered into the place in a daze, and only came out of it when he realized a man in a white coat was speaking in low careful tones and trying to tug Minion out of his hands. Men in white lab-type coats was another old nightmare. It was possible that he had overreacted.

The prison doctor had mentioned once that tetracycline could be safely used by both humans and animals as well as sentient ichthyoids, so he’d taken the tetracycline for Minion, just in case circumstances prevented him from getting to the nearest pet store. But he’d had some luck there. The pet store in the strip mall next door to the pharmacy had been open and empty, so he walked in swiftly, amid the shrill voices of the parakeets and a yapping dog, grabbed the bottle of Happy Aquariums fish antibiotic, and left again, while a voice from the back room called, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The Happy Aquariums tetracycline powder would dissolve quickly in water, which was better for Minion. He would’ve hated to try to figure out how much of the human tetracycline to give him. In his current fuzzy state of mind he could barely calculate the antiderivative of a continuous function, for crying out loud, let alone figure out how much medicine meant for a 150 pound person to give to a four pound person.

At least the white patches that drifted in and out of his vision were beginning to clear up. He could actually see Minion clearly now, whereas for most of the morning he'd felt like he was talking to a cloud. One of these days he'd have to look up the symptoms of concussion. Not that it mattered. He was sure he'd get over it.

He’d hidden the stolen car, then slipped through the alleys with the coat over his head, carrying Minion and the pharmacy bag, gun stuck in his belt, scraping his hip raw. With the rain falling, he hoped he looked like someone trying to keep dry, and not like some hunchbacked fugitive. It was a neighborhood almost as shady as the one in which they'd spent the night, and the residents were not likely to call the police for any reason short of bloodshed, though he did not want to test this theory. People might make an exception in his case.

He kept telling himself there was just one more chore, just one more ...okay, now another one, last one, promise... If he kept fooling himself, he could find enough energy for just one more thing, but it was getting harder and harder. His body was beginning to catch on that there _was_ no end to the chores, and was preparing to go on strike.

He hobbled back to the table. “Ready? All right, open up.”

Lifting Minion out, he set him on the table, picked up the tweezers and got to work.

\- - - -

It took several attempts to get the tiny stones out. Minion needed to go back into the containment unit at regular intervals to catch his breath. When it was over, they were both trembling with stress and nine bloody pebbles lay on the plastic.

Carefully he put a small dab of antibiotic ointment on part of the scrape.

“I'll keep an eye on it for any bad reactions, Minion. If it looks all right, I'll apply some to the entire scrape. Tell me if it feels different, or hurts worse.” He lifted Minion back into his watery home. The antibiotic wasn't designed for fish or ichthyoids and would need to be watched, but it was probably better than nothing.

He broke open one of the bubbles on the blister pack of the fish medicine, and poured it into the containment unit, then crushed one of the baby aspirins. Measuring one-eighth of a teaspoon onto the tip of a spoon by sight, he fed it to Minion, who made a face at the taste. He took another ibuprofen, though it didn't seem to be helping that much and he rubbed his sore eyes. “One more thing to take care of.”

They looked at the bandaged arm. Megamind clenched his right hand into a fist in an attempt to stop the shaking. He really did not want to see what was under there.

Soaking the stiff bandage under the tap helped only so much. Even after using the scissors to cut through it, the hardened blood kept it stuck firmly to his arm.

“The hell with this,” Megamind muttered. He shuffled back to the table and sat down. He stuffed one of the cloth roller bandages into his mouth.

“Oh no,” Minion gasped, eyes wide. “Sir, you're not going to...please don't... run it under the water a little...”

Megamind gripped the edge of the bandage and braced himself.

Minion squeezed his eyes shut. He cringed at the muffled scream. The scattered first aid staples pinged and clattered onto the table and floor as they flew off. Minion looked up as Megamind staggered around the apartment cradling his arm, uttering muffled curses and sobs. After a while he limped back and sat down, wiping his face on his shoulder, and spat out the roll-up. Minion politely ignored the tears streaking his face.

“Not too bad,” Megamind whispered, hiccuping.

They stared at the arm in silence.

“It really _doesn't_ look too bad,” Minion said in hushed tones.

“Of course,” Megamind whispered. “My superior physiology, naturally.”

His arm was swollen, but not as much as he'd feared, and very sore. The lacerations, though blurred with old clots and oozing a little from the tearing off of the bandage, seemed to be bravely scabbing over again. Megamind went back to the sink and held his arm under the tap, head resting against his other shoulder, until he got the worst of the old blood rinsed off, then dried it with one of the bandages. He came back to the table and put antibiotic on it, placed a clean pad over it, and wrapped it up again.

“Good as new in no time,” Megamind whispered.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Minion?”

“Why are we whispering?”

He stared at Minion and then he began to shake.

“Because no one's home!” he whispered, voice cracking with merriment, and grabbed onto the table to keep from sliding down onto the floor. “Nobody here but John Doe!” he giggled. There was nothing funny about it, and his ribs and face hurt even more, but he clamped his teeth together and silently laughed. Minion, too, giggled in near hysteria.

“Ow,” he said eventually, after the tremors finally died away.

“S-sorry, Sir,” Minion gasped.

The only thing that kept him from sinking to the floor and passing out right there was the knowledge that the hard floor would feel pretty bad to his ribs. He collected Minion and hobbled into the living room. He lay down on the sagging couch and tucked the gun under the cushion. Minion he tucked into the crook of his arm.

_I should have brought the coat for a blanket,_ he thought, but it was too much trouble to go all the way back and get it, and soon he was asleep.

\- - - - -

The rain fell off and on throughout the day, shrinking the snow piles. People could see around and over them now. As the gray day slowly dissolved into night the temperature fell, and the streets and sidewalks froze, turning into ice rinks.

Harry Chambers hurried home from the bus stop three blocks away. He didn't mean to stay out so late, but he was so close to getting a winning streak at the slot machines. He wanted to get home before any muggers caught up to him. The two grocery bags in his arms grew heavy, and it was with great relief that he climbed the last set of stairs, set one bag atop the other, and got the door to his apartment open.

He'd put aside the grocery money in a locker, and had kept his resolve not to dip into it for any gambling. Pacing himself, that was the ticket. He could keep it all under control, so long as he kept to the budget.

He got the door locked again, and paused to rub his watery eyes against the damp collar of his denim jacket. It seemed like he had allergies twelve months out of the year, nowadays. As he turned his foot caught on a something lying on the floor. What the...? Had he dropped a towel? Stepping away from it he went into the kitchen and put the bags on the counter, shoving back the plates and old containers. He groped for the light switch, then stared at the black trench coat on the floor. Looking around the kitchen his eyes grew wide with alarm at the plastic sheet with the tweezers and the scattered bandages that lay on the table, at the kitchen sink spattered with gore.

The door had been locked when he came, hadn't it? There had been no signs of forced entry, but he hadn't checked for any, either.

Then he saw the black boots sticking over the edge of the couch. The intruder was still in the apartment. Heart thudding dully in his chest, he began to step back toward the door.

A voice floated out of the living room.

“Uncle Harry, don't flip out, it's us.”

Harry jumped, stifled a gasp, and clutched at his chest. “Geez, Minion! You about gave me a heart attack!”

He strode into the living room and turned on the light. The three bare bulbs on the ceiling cast harsh light across the couch and TV. Megamind lay on the couch on his side. Confused, Harry looked around for Minion. The robot suit should have filled half the apartment but there was no sign of it, and then he saw that Minion was cradled within Megamind's bandaged arm. Minion blinked sheepishly at Harry.

Hesitantly Harry came closer. Minion nudged the containment unit against Megamind, who grunted.

“Sir? Sir, wake up, it's...”

Harry began to bend over the boy and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. The boy's eyes fluttered open. Then in one swift movement, he rose on one elbow and a gun appeared in his hand, pointed right at Harry's head.

Harry jerked his hands over his head. “Blue, it's me,” he gasped.

“Sir, it's all right,” Minion said frantically. “It's Harry!”

The blaze left Megamind's eyes. “Oh,” he said quietly, and he sank back against the couch again. “Oh. It's you. Hi, Uncle Harry.” The gun disappeared back under the cushion.

Harry lowered his hands, breathing hard. He wasn't sure how many near-heart attacks he could stand. “What happened to you, man?” Megamind had so many bruises he was purple and red, with only a few spots of blue here and there. “Everybody's looking for you! How did you get in?” Harry stopped himself. He was blabbering. Of _course_ they knew everyone was looking for them. Of _course_ they'd sneaked in. These were stupid questions.

“Feeling a little under the weather, Harry. Mind if we crash here a couple of days? It won't be much longer than that, I promise.”

“Under the weather? Boy, you look like you got dragged under a truck,” Harry said, getting down on one knee to get a better look at his face. Megamind's eyes were sunken and dull, his lips cracked and dry.

“Few ice packs, I'll be fine,” Megamind said. Now Harry saw that bruises circled the thin neck like a collar, and it looked like bruises extended down under the torn shirt.

“What happened? How bad is it? You get shot?”

“Don't be silly. A few contusions. I'll be right as rain in a few...”

“Better let me see. You look like you need a doctor.”

  
Megamind's lip twitched and his eyes narrowed. “I said I'll be fine.”

“Then let me _see.”_

Megamind lay still for a few moments, then he rolled stiffly onto his back and lifted his shirt a little ways. Harry gently moved the edge of the shirt up higher and sucked in his breath. Minion, who was also getting his first look, also gasped.

The boy's torso was a solid sheet of purple and black.

His own ribs ached in sympathy. Noticing Megamind shivering, he laid the shirt down again. He walked over to the thermostat and turned it up. He took the faded red quilt off his bed and laid it over Megamind.

“Hey, I can't see!” Minion protested, squirming. Harry pulled it back enough so Minion could see out, then turned on the TV, just to have something to do. It immediately opened on the nightly news, which he did not want to learn about just then, so he changed the channel until he found some bland sitcom. The boy's eyes were closed again, but Minion peered out at him anxiously. Canned laughter erupted from the TV and he turned down the volume a little.

He'd heard about the boy's escape on TV. Armed and dangerous, they'd said, and believed to be injured. But they never hinted at what those injuries were.

“Blue, you need a doctor.” He didn't have a phone. He'd have to use the pay phone on the corner.

“No can do, Harry. And it's Megamind. Blue is a primary color.”

“But you could be bleeding in there.”

“I'm not. I promise.”

“You can't promise that,” Harry said, exasperated. “You don't know that! Something could be broken.”

Megamind sighed and began to sit up. “If you call the hospital, then they will call the police. And I will be back in the hands of the feds, and I assure you that no one will see either Minion or me ever again.”

Harry frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Who do you think did this?” Minion said. Megamind rested his hand on the bowl. Harry rubbed his hand over his mouth, brow wrinkled in consternation.

“But why?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “What happened?” It wasn't that Harry believed that officers of the law could do no wrong. Far from it. He'd been on the receiving end of a few kicks and shoves from officers himself. Some cops snapped, and some cops were just dicks. But this went beyond the usual petty mistreatment that sometimes happened when officers got fed up.

Megamind and Minion glanced at each other. “Probably best if you don't know,” Megamind said. “Suffice it to say that I learned something I shouldn't have, I was resistant to certain recruitment procedures, and it's turned into a grudge match.”

He glanced down at the containment unit. “Minion's hurt too, Uncle Harry,” he said quietly.

Harry paced across the room. It was all starting to sound like some weirdo conspiracy. The boy had been known to tell some whoppers, but he'd never lied to Harry before, not about anything important, anyway. It was an awful lot to take in, and Harry had never come under the scrutiny of the feds before.

“I-I-I don't know, Blue... I mean, Megamind, are you sure I shouldn't....I mean I could call the warden, I'm sure he...”

  
Megamind shook his head and got to his feet with a sigh. “Thank you for the use of your apartment, Uncle Harry, I'm sorry about the mess. But we must be going.”

“Hey, hey, wait now! I didn't say...” Harry stepped toward them. Megamind looked sharply at him.

“No long good-byes,” the boy said. “I feel much more rested now and I don't want to impose on your hospitality any longer than necessary.” He took the gun from under the cushion and stuck it in his belt, wincing. Stiffly he picked up the alarmed Minion and began to walk toward the front door.

“All right, you can stay!” Harry said desperately. The thought of them going out into that cold rainy night was unbearable. He laid a hand on the boy's arm. “And I won't call anyone. All right? Just sit down already.” Megamind allowed himself to be steered back to the couch and he lay down again with Minion.

“You really mustn't call anyone, Harry,” he said, eyes boring into him. “Our lives depend on it.”

“Yeah, I said I wouldn't,” Harry said a little sharply. He took off his damp jacket and laid it across one of the folding chairs.

Megamind slumped against the cushion. “Um, do you have any dry socks I could have?”

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Rebounding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you can't run, you crawl. If you can't crawl...you find someone to carry you." -Joss Whedon

He'd slept a lot, and night time was pretty much his regular period of wakefulness so he hadn't thought he would sleep any more after Harry retired to his mattress in the corner, but suddenly Megamind lurched awake with a jolt. A test pattern glowed steadily from the TV screen. Harry had left it on to keep them company through the night.

It was 4:30 in the morning and his bladder was fit to burst. The faded green quilt had slipped halfway onto the floor and he felt chilled.

Lurching off the couch he staggered into the bathroom, his feet sliding around inside the borrowed socks. Harry's feet were much bigger than his and the sock's heels were half way up his calves.

Legs wobbling, he sat, and as soon as his bare skin touched the cold porcelain seat he began shivering. By the time he finished he was shaking uncontrollably. His head pounded, and every contusion throbbed. Whimpering with relief at having emptied his bladder and agony at the extra pain his uncontrollable shivering was producing, he zipped up his pants and lurched out again.

Shivering and aching from a thousand aches, he picked up Minion from the couch and hobbled over to the mattress. Uncle Harry rubbed his eyes and raised himself onto one elbow.

“What's the matter?” Harry asked. “You need a pill?”

“No,” he croaked, throat stinging. “I'm cold.” Crawling under the blanket he turned his back to Harry and clutched Minion's containment unit to his neck, and shook, pressing the heel of his fist into his eye.

He couldn't stand it. Weak as a day old kitten and six times as pathetic!

Alarmed, Harry reached over to touch his hands. The boy's fingers were ice cold. Harry got up and got the quilt from the floor by the couch and laid it over them, adjusting it a little so Minion could see out. Minion's sad eyes were just visible in the dim light that filtered in through the thin curtains.

“Uncle Harry, could you please get a pain pill?” Minion whispered.

“I can still hear, you know,” Megamind growled, teeth chattering. Harry turned on the light in the kitchen, got a glass of water and shook an ibuprofen out of the bottle. At Minion's coaxing, Megamind raised himself onto one elbow and swallowed the pill, then lay down again. Harry got under the covers and lay down again, facing the wall. The boy trembled against his back.

Harry remembered when his own kids were little and would cuddle against him when they were sick. He thought about rolling over and putting his arm over the boy, it seemed like he could use a little extra comfort and warmth, but he had a feeling that Megamind's wounded pride wouldn't allow it.

_This can't be good,_ Harry thought, but at least his body heat seemed to be helping. After a couple of minutes Megamind's shaking began to lessen.

After a little more time passed he grew still, with only an occasional tremor, but Harry thought he was still awake. The rain had stopped a couple of hours ago.

Somewhere in the street below there was shouting, three or four angry voices coming closer, until they were right under the apartment window, all apparently competing for the loudest, most vulgar voice contest. It was impossible to tell what the argument was about as it consisted almost entirely of swear words.

After a time some of the voices moved away until there was only one left, proclaiming an angry diatribe at the world, at great length in another language.

“What is that, Spanish?” Harry muttered.

“Portuguese,” the boy mumbled.

“Oh.” Harry listened. The guy certainly had a lot to talk about. “What's he saying?”

“It would seem,” Megamind said, “that the world would be a better place if cheating whores and their cheating pimps didn't go around stealing, he wants his $150 dollars back, and he wishes he were back in Boston. Oh, and the CIA is spying on him, don't think he doesn't know it.” Megamind snorted. “They certainly won't have any trouble finding him.”

“He's from Boston?” Harry asked, frowning. “They got a lot of Portuguese there?”

“Oh, I don't know, Uncle Harry,” Megamind said wearily. “I'll run down and ask him later.”

The angry rant continued.

“Yeah, I wish you were back in Boston, too, jerk,” Megamind growled. “The whole street wishes you were back there.”

A window somewhere across the way slammed open and woman's shrill voice screamed at the man to shut up, which caused him to switch back to English and an entirely new argument erupted. Another man's thunderous voice joined the woman's, making some very specific threats specifying that if the ranter didn't leave right now under his own power, then he would see to it that he, the ranter, would be leaving in an ambulance.

“Go back where you came from, wetback!” the window shouter yelled, and there was a howl of of outrage from the man in the street.

“Stupid bigot,” Megamind grumbled. “And I do realize I am being redundant. Didn't even use the right ethnic slur.”

“I'm born here, same as you! Where do your parents come from, fatso?” the man yelled.

“I wish I had the de-gun,” Megamind said disgustedly, and pulled the blankets over his head and Minion, despite Minion's protest.

Another window opened down the block and more people joined the shouting match. There was the crash of breaking glass; someone had thrown a bottle. Outnumbered and possibly out of breath, the embittered Portuguese speaker moved on, and the street fell silent.

Megamind's breathing steadied and Harry knew that he slept. He rubbed at his watery eyes. The older he got, the more it seemed like he had allergies all year round now, not just in the summer. He would have gotten up to get some tissue but he didn't want to disturb the boys, so he made do with his t-shirt.

At least Megamind hadn't gone for the semi-automatic this time. Maybe he had been too overcome by the shaking fit. There had been two other disturbances that night, once when a car backfired and another time when there were sirens in the distance.

Both times Megamind had taken the gun out from under the couch cushion, sidled up to a window, and peered around the edge of the curtain, careful not to let his profile show. The curtains were cheap, thin fabric that did little to dim the street lights and the neon sign of the diner next door. Only after assuring himself that all was well would the boy relax and go to lie down again.

That damn gun made Harry nervous. He could feel the weight of it, lurking under the cushions of the couch, as if it bent the atmosphere of the apartment around itself. He wished he could get rid of it without Megamind noticing. But what if it went off when he picked it up? Firearms belonged to a different level of crime that Harry had always steered well away from. When the cops came for him he preferred to go along quietly. Easier that way, and the odds of survival were pretty much guaranteed at a hundred percent. Having it around was just asking for trouble, but he didn't think he'd be able to sneak it away. Megamind would discover it missing and then there would be a scene.

What's more, Harry didn't want to get his fingerprints on it. It was a Glock, Megamind told him, a favored weapon with law enforcement, a grim reminder of who he'd taken it from.

Harry thought about the nearest pay phone two blocks away, and the dark street, infested with potential muggers and an angry Portuguese-American. He wondered for the hundredth time if he were doing the right thing. The boy would be so much better off with real medical care. Ibuprofen, ice packs, and cuddling were not, he felt, going to be enough. Making ice packs had been a slow process with only one ice cube tray, and Megamind kept complaining about the cold and would shunt them off anyway. Three sodden plastic bags with partially melted ice lay next to the couch.

But Megamind insisted that he would be fine, all he needed was rest, and if the authorities got hold of him again, it would be the end. What if Harry called for help and ended up being the cause of the boy's death? What if the boy died anyway, from some deadly injury hidden deep inside?

Harry thought about persuading Megamind to seek help for Minion at least, but that was really just sort of an underhanded way of getting him to turn himself in, and truth to tell, Minion seemed to be in better shape, though he looked pretty banged up too.

And didn't it hurt him, having that hard containment unit pressed against him all the time? That couldn't feel good, with all those bruises, but Megamind held Minion firmly as if the little ichthyoid were a life preserver.

He thought about how upset he'd be if one of his kids was in trouble and no one told him, and that got him to thinking about the warden, and that riot a few years back. How old was the boy then? Five or six, something like that, when he was still small enough to be carried in Harry's arms, and didn't mind being called Blue.

\- - - - - - 

When Harry was sent to the Metro City prison for the Criminally Gifted, he resigned himself to being once again at the bottom of the pecking order, just like every other jail he'd been in. It was hard, being a black man convicted of a white-collar crime. The other black prisoners usually gave him the cold shoulder because he wasn't cool enough or didn't have street cred or whatever the hell it was, and he was avoided by the whites and the Hispanics, at least until they realized what a pushover he was. He didn't  _try_ to be a pushover, he did his best to project a “don't mess with me” sort of look, but somehow it didn't take.

But one thing about the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted was that it wasn't as strongly divided along racial lines as in many other prisons. The racial divides were there, but muted. There was a tendency for the men to hang out primarily with the racial or ethnic group they felt most at home with, but no one would bust anyone else's head if there was the occasional crossover. Especially in one particular group. Blue's uncles.

Maybe the presence of the two alien boys was the reason for this vague state of racial harmony. It didn't matter so much what race you were. If Blue and Minion took a liking to you and started calling you uncle, you were in. Being part of the uncles was the closest Harry had ever been to being in a gang, and it was, to his surprise, rather pleasant. The other uncles watched his back, so that was a real plus. The other prisoners left him alone and didn't push him around too much.

Blue and Minion helped him out sometimes too, warning him away from certain people, coaching him on what to say or what not to say, and sometimes Harry wondered who was looking after whom. Mostly Blue followed him around talking his ear off, and Harry, who missed his own kids something awful, was grateful.

On this particular day Harry had been hanging out in the rec room, trying to tune out Sid's usual bellyaching and watch TV, while Blue and Minion bashed ping-pong balls around the room. Harry just cupped his hands around his ears and leaned closer to the TV. He didn't even want to know what those boys were up to. Blue wasn't being  _too_ destructive, though the occasional shriek of laughter as a ball got smashed beyond recognition was testing his resolve to not get involved.

Some other prisoners were playing cards in the corner, only shouting at the kids when a ball came flying into their midst. With the maniacal Uncle Sid present, who was white, short, and prone to fits of berserk rage against anyone who even looked like they'd give Blue and Minion a hard time, they would do no more than yell.

Suddenly a roar sounded out in the hallway like a distillation of hell, and Lenny flung the door open, shouting at Sid and Harry to grab the kids and get to his cell. Then he disappeared again, for what reason Harry never found out, and Sid, leaping to his feet, immediately crashed into 'Razor' Roberts, one of his many sworn enemies, so he got pretty distracted, and that left Harry to run across the room to grab the startled boys.

Harry scooped them up, Blue in one arm and Minion in his little coffee-can sized robot suit in the other. Not in the best of shape, he struggled to hold them without squishing them. Puffing, he stepped out of the rec room and into total chaos. Prisoners seemed to be attacking each other everywhere.

Whether it was a riot or a fight between gangs, Harry never found out, but it hardly mattered. Screams and shouts echoed off the walls.

Where were the guards? All taking a coffee break? And did that guy have a  _crowbar?_

A prisoner charged straight at him, hands swinging at his sides. Harry didn't know his name, but he recognized him, a skinhead with mean squinty eyes, and some weird tattoo of a stylized swastika and sword on his neck, whom Harry always avoided at all costs.

_What did I do to him?_ Harry thought. Hastily he backed toward the rec room, where Sid could protect them. 

Suddenly the man was on top of him, grabbing at him, then to his horror he realized the man had a hold of Blue's collar.

Blue ducked his head and sank his teeth into the man's knuckle. Skinhead jerked back with a yell and then Lenny's big, black fist shot between them. The skinhead went flying.

“Get out of here!” Lenny roared, pushing him toward the corridor.

Harry made for the cell block before they could become targets again, but stopped short. A man lay right across the corridor, twitching, and blood was splattered over his orange uniform and over the wall all the way up to the  _ceiling._ Blue gasped and pressed his face into Harry's shoulder and Minion growled and whimpered. Harry had never seen a man with his throat slit before either, but there was no way around so he had to step over his legs. As he wobbled down the corridor Sid caught up with them, teeth bared in a bloody grin and mood greatly improved. He took Blue out of Harry's sagging arm and they hurried away from the mayhem...

They took refuge in Lenny's cell. Not much else happened, though they could still hear the distant fighting. It sounded like the guards had finally shown up. Lenny appeared, silent and fierce, and simply leaned against the bars, looking out. Sid, his eye swelling up, paced back and forth muttering and cursing. Harry sat next to the boys on the bed. Blue had one arm around Minion's little shoulders and was using his other arm to try to cover both his ears at once. Minion chewed on one of his tendrils, always a sign of great anxiety.

A couple of prisoners ambled by, giving them all a speculative, predatory look, but Sid punched a fist into his hand and Lenny squared his shoulders and glared at them, and they sauntered off as if they were just out for a little stroll.

Sid went back to his agitated pacing. The two boys sat very still, only their eyes following the muttering Sid, until Harry, in a rare burst of insane courage, snapped:

“Would you shut the hell up!”

Sid whipped around, eyes wide with anger, and Harry thought for sure he was going to get his ass kicked, but then Sid looked at the boys huddled together and, incredibly, shut up. Lenny gave them all a somber glare then went back to his watch. Sid, still twitchy, went to stand by him and leaned against the bars, crossing his arms hard across his chest as if forcing himself to behave.

Harry looked down at Blue, trying to remember what the kid was reading these days.

“Hey,” he murmured, giving him a little nudge with his elbow.

Two little faces looked up at him. “I'm not scared,” Blue said promptly.

“Me neither,” Minion said.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said. “I was just thinking about what you were telling me about the other day, you heard something on the news, or the paper, about the...the DNA robots?”

A distant scream made both Blue and Minion look around at the corridor, but Harry gazed at them steadily, willing them to look back at him, even though a drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

Blue swallowed and looked at him again. “I think you're getting them mixed up, Uncle Harry,” he said in the patient tone that he always used with clueless grown-ups who meant well. “There was a new technique development in DNA analysis, and also, in an unrelated news item, recent innovations in nanotechnology in which an artificial carbon construct called buckminsterfullerene was created. They are two separate things.”

It always amazed Harry to hear such huge words coming from that little voice. The kid would mispronounce stuff all the time, like when he was telling him about some new 'theo-rice' and Harry wondered where the sudden interest in rice came from, until he realized the boy meant 'theories'. Then words like 'buckminsterfullerene' (whatever  _that_ was) just rolled off his tongue.

“So, nanotechnology, that's little robots, right?” Harry said.

Blue nodded. “Really little. Molecule-sized. They may even have medical uses.”

“Really?” Harry hadn't heard that. “How are they going to use them?”

“Well, they could be injected into the bloodstream so they can diagnose die-zeases.”

“What?” Sid chuckled, crouching by the cot. “You mean doctors'd shoot you full of teeny, creepy little bug-bots?” He waggled his fingers in the air and scrunched up his face. “Ewwww.”

Blue and Minion giggled.

They could hear some shouting on one of the lower levels. Harry looked up. He hadn't even noticed that the noise of the fight had gone away. Then they heard the warden's voice:

“I  _know_ he was in the rec room! We already checked twice! He's hiding, that's what he does when...”

Lenny leaned out of the cell and shouted, “Up here, warden! He's with us!”

The warden hurried into the cell, pale as a ghost, and hugged Blue and Minion tight, and shook hands with the three of them, thanking them so profusely that Harry was embarrassed, and even a little angry.

So later, after thinking it over for a good long while, he asked to speak with Mister Parker. Though once he was seated in the warden's office and the man himself was sitting there behind his big desk with all those files and papers, clearly busy but hiding his impatience, because this was one of Blue's uncles, Harry felt his righteous indignation wavering. He always did have trouble speaking up. His ex-wife said he was born without a backbone, but this time he screwed up his courage and asked Mister Parker why he kept those boys in prison.

The warden sighed and shifted a few pages around as if searching for an answer.

“There are several reasons. None of them truly adequate,” he said. He straightened a few pens. “I had hoped, at one time,” he said slowly, “that I might have convinced my wife that we could adopt them. That is impossible, now. She is absent, and I already have one troubled child at home.”

“But couldn't you find another family? There must be somebody...”

“There are over one hundred thousand children in this country waiting for adoption, Mister Chambers,” Parker interrupted. He sighed again. “They would be...hard to place. But I did look into it, once. And there was a lot of, shall we say, unhealthy interest. One couple turned out to be employees of a major biotechnology company, who had been bribed to pose as legitimate sponsors. As did yet  _another_ couple from a pharmaceutical company.” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Another pair turned out to be members of a cult.” The warden clamped his jaw shut and looked away, drumming his fingers on the desk, and Harry didn't dare ask what  _they_ had wanted.

The warden grimaced, leaning forward on the desk. “This is not ideal, Mister Chambers. Not by a long shot. But it's a hell of a lot better than the alternatives.”

He looked at Harry thoughtfully as if wondering how much to tell him, then seemed to make up his mind. “There is another consideration as well. If I were to take Blue and Minion home with me, the financial support for their upkeep would stop immediately.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. He hadn't thought of that. Who was paying for the two little aliens to stay in this place?

“You mean there's some kind of grant or something?” Harry asked, brow wrinkling.

Parker nodded. Harry looked at him a little more narrowly. “But you know who it is.”

The warden nodded again. “The donor prefers to be anonymous. If I  _did_ decide to adopt them by myself and take them out of the prison, I'd be on my own. I would need to hire a nanny, preferably one who can recognize incendiary devices,” Parker continued. “And probably a bodyguard, so the feds couldn't just come into my house and take them away. Or for anyone else to take them, for that matter. They've tried before. Here, there are walls and guards to at least slow them down. I can't afford that kind of protection. For better or worse, I need that anonymous donor. The stipulation is that he be kept in the prison, until such time as he can be safely assimilated into society.” 

It didn't escape his notice that the warden had switched from “they” to “he”, and Harry was pretty sure which one of the pair was the bigger concern.

“Of course, the members of the Alien Oversight Committee have their own ideas about what 'safely assimilated' means,” Parker said. “The committee believes he is a constant, potential threat. And the...donor seems to be willing to take their word over mine, so...”

The two of them sat in silence for a little while, and the clock ticked on the wall.

“I appreciate your concern, Mister Chambers,” Parker said. “And I'm very grateful for the care you've shown them. I will do my best to alleviate your stay here, and to give you a work recommendation for when you leave. Is there anything else I can...”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, waving his hands. He hadn't come to see the warden to ask for special favors. “No, no, warden, nothing, I'm good. And it's just Harry,” he said, embarrassed at all the respect, and returned to the cell block.

\- - - - - 

Harry thought about his own children. Though they were all grown up now he'd be pretty mad if they were in trouble and no one told him. But he'd promised Megamind that he'd make no phone calls, not even to the warden. Especially the warden.

Maybe...an anonymous phone call, just to let him know the boys were being taken care of...he wondered what he could do to disguise his voice.

Harry carefully pulled back the blankets a little off Megamind's head and face, and away from the containment unit. Minion didn't like being covered. He was sure they both must be asleep, but Minion looked up at him, the end of one of his tendrils clutched in his teeth. Harry touched Megamind's hand. He was warmer, no longer icy.

“It'll be all right, man,” Harry whispered, not knowing if it would or not. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Minion mumbled, giving him a brief smile, gamely trying to show Harry that he believed him, and huddled a little further down into the bowl.

\- - - - - -

Megamind cracked his eyes open at the gentle shake of his shoulder and peered up into Uncle Harry's concerned face.

“Hey, you guys. Got some doughnuts,” he said, lifting the bag to show them. “You want any?”

Megamind's eyes darted around the apartment. Every time he woke up he half expected the cops or the feds to be looming over him. But the TV murmured away, broadcasting a morning show full of human interest stories, and there was no one in the place but themselves.

Harry kept the TV on constantly, to provide enough background noise to hide their conversations from any casual passersby in the hall. The neighbors were mostly single men who, like Harry, were down on their luck for one reason or another and who kept to themselves, but the walls were thin and it was better not to take any chances, so the TV provided a constant hum.

“I'm not hungry,” Megamind said. The constant aching every time he moved or breathed sucked the appetite right out of him.

“You feel nauseous?” Harry asked.

“No. Just...I'll eat later. Minion, you should...”

“I'm not hungry either,” Minion said.

“Minion, I can hear your stomach growling.”

“So?” the little ichthyoid said. “Don't need to eat. I'm staying here. Can't do anything else anyway.”

He lifted his head and looked at the way Minion's eyes and mouth turned down.

“I need to talk to Minion alone, Uncle Harry,” said Megamind.

Harry nodded, then turned and walked into the kitchen. With no wall separating the two rooms it was the most privacy he could give them, other than shutting himself in the bathroom, and with the thin door he'd still be able to hear them whether he wanted to or not. He stood looking out the window, blowing on his coffee and studying the clouds.

Megamind pushed himself up onto his elbows, then sat up. Since the mattress was on the floor he sat cross-legged, almost Indian-style but with his feet on the floor, and rolled the containment unit onto his leg. Then he picked it up and raised it to his face. Placing his bruised forehead against the smooth surface he closed his eyes.

He stroked the cool material with his thumb and thought about what to say. His first reaction had been annoyance. Why was Minion being so stubborn? If he was hungry, he should eat, plain and simple. But Minion looked so depressed.

He opened his eyes and raised his head so he could give Minion a solemn look.

“I'm not going to stop breathing if you go get yourself some food,” he said.

Minion twitched his tail unhappily. “But I want to stay here with you. I'm helping you. Physical touch from a loved one is one of the best aids to healing. It is a scientific fact.”

Megamind snorted. “Oh, well,  _science._ You trying to get on my good side? No, I believe you,” he said as Minion opened his mouth to protest. “And I do feel better having you beside me. But I think I can spare you for a few minutes. I manage to limp into the bathroom all on my own. So if you really are hungry, you should go into the kitchen and eat. Don't wait for me.”

Minion's forehead wrinkled. “Just feel useless,” he whispered. “I can't do anything.”

“Stop it,” Megamind said in a low voice. “Do you think I only keep you around out of... of usefulness? When I thought you were...I almost...” He clamped his lips shut, breathing hard, and tried to control the lump building in his throat.

Minion had been bashed, scraped, and nearly suffocated, had even tried to get Megamind to leave him behind, and here he was beating himself up for not being able to do more. The loss of the robot suit and the mobility it gave him had left Minion anxious and dejected.

“Is this the same bad-ass fish who cleverly hid that lock pick and bit two people in three different places?” he said gruffly. “Who remembered the keys and knew where to find a haven and managed to procure yet another wretchedly oversized coat, all without the robot suit? If it weren't for you we'd be locked in some dungeon somewhere, or dead. Or still freezing our heinies off in that car.

_“They_ thought you were useless, just because they took away your robot suit. They believed you were helpless and could be dismissed out of hand. You proved them wrong. And if you believe you're helpless, Minion, you're wrong, too.” 

He sniffed and raised his chin a little. “And aren't I always right?” he said, raising an arrogant eyebrow. His mouth twitched in ever-so-slight self-mockery, knowing that there were many times he'd been wrong, and also knowing full well that it was a cornerstone of their relationship that he was always right, even when he was wrong.

Minion grinned, happy to be standing, as it were, on familiar ground. “Yes, Sir.”

He lowered his head and Minion poked out of the top of the bowl and gently pressed his little green forehead to Sir's bruised one.

Megamind stroked Minion's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“I need you, Minion. Remember that.”

“Okay, Sir.”

They sat with their heads together for a few moments while the television murmured away and Uncle Harry moved about the kitchen.

Megamind cleared his throat and straightened up again. Minion slipped back into the water. “You really are a lot of work, Minion,” he said in a more normal voice, tilting his head and giving him a sly grin.

“Hmph,” said Minion. “Look who’s talking.” He too could raise a sardonic eyebrow when needed,

Megamind chuckled, pleased at this hint of banter. “Oh ho ho. Because of my kind and generous nature I’m going to let that slide. But you do need to get strong. Want to know why?”

Minion nodded.

Megamind brought the bowl closer again. “Because the first thing we're going to do when I get  _my_ strength back is retrieve your robot suit,” he whispered. “I'm not going to waste time scrabbling around for spare parts to cobble together another one. And you will walk by my side again.”

“And fight!” the little ichthyoid growled.

“Should the occasion arise.” Megamind grinned.

“But how...”

“I'll tell you later.” His glance darted briefly toward Uncle Harry, who had turned on the tap and was running water into the sink to wash the dishes. Minion nodded eagerly. No need to worry Harry with any of their plans of impending mayhem. It was best if he were kept out of it.

“I'm sure I'll get my appetite back soon. So are you hungry or not? Good,” he said as Minion nodded. “Uncle Harry, could you give Minion something to eat?”

\- - - - - -

Bad enough they had to work all weekend, Agent Ross thought to himself. At least the others didn't have to put up with Psycho Delic. Ross  _needed_ a few days off from Psycho Delic's presence regularly, so he didn't feel like he needed to take a bath every half hour.

“Feet. Off. The desk,” he said again, giving the purple man a hard look. You had to lay down the law with Psycho Delic all the time, or he'd chip away at your authority until you didn't have any choice but to thumb the remote and shock him. Though he behaved himself just enough to be allowed his own apartment so he didn't have to stay in the cells of the federal building, he toed the line, pushed the envelope, and just generally pushed to see just how much he could get away with.

Different levels of control were indicated by the number of lights. One light showed it was operational, two lights dampened the wearer's powers by about a third, three lights on meant by a third more, and four lights indicated a total lockdown, so the super would be just an ordinary person.

Psycho's collar was always at a three, at least.

Psycho Delic's lips pressed together in a thin smile and, never taking his eyes off Ross's, he slowly, deliberately clunked each foot down hard on the floor. He glanced around the open floor of the office, looking over the agents busy at their desks, until his gaze landed on Sparkle sitting in a chair next to Agent Corbin's office. Her knees pulled up to her chest, she had a bulky coat on over her green skin-tight uniform and was thumbing listlessly through a newspaper.

“Spent a little time checking out the hookers last night,” Psycho said loudly, turning back to Ross with a grin. Across the room, Sparkle glanced up at the sound of his voice, then she ducked her head over the paper again, face reddening. Psycho Delic fussily straightened the lapels on his tan trench coat. He wore a white dress shirt with the top buttons open to expose his toast-rack chest. Two gold chains lay around his neck next to the power inhibiting collar.

Ross's jaw tightened. He wished he could send Sparkle home, but Corbin had insisted that all operatives be present. But really, what use was she other than for reconnaissance? She had no underground contacts, no investigative skills, and despite her powers, which were considerable, she had no combat skills and cringed whenever anyone looked at her cross-eyed.

The girl was cursed, no doubt about it, but it was best if DPI could keep an eye on her. Ross thought he would have to talk to Corbin again about putting a collar on her. He claimed that she didn't need it, being so easily controlled even without the threat of it, but accidents happened, and Ross didn't want to see anyone get hurt if Sparkle should lose the iron control she maintained over her radiant powers, about the only strength of will she ever displayed about anything.

Naturally, the Department was also keeping a close eye on Wayne Scott, from a distance. Lord Scott did not take kindly to any kind of supervision or interference. Ross would not like to be the one to try to put a collar on  _that_ one, and he hoped that the young Metro Man was as heroic as he claimed.

All of these super-powered beings needed watching, if not outright handling.

Psycho Delic was a prime example of that need.

“You were just supposed to check your contacts, not go traipsing off to the red light district. Which we have  _already_ investigated, James,” he said. “There's no reason to suppose Megamind would seek refuge there.”

“Doesn't hurt to take another look, eh?” Psycho Delic said, grinning. “Maybe the little geek ran a few experiments and figured out what dicks are for, eh? Maybe he's a late bloomer. I myself was eleven when I discovered the wonders of screwing, but that's just me,” he said with a shrug. “How about you, sweetheart, how old were you?” he called across the room.

Sparkle abruptly stood up and walked quickly down the hallway to the restroom. Psycho Delic, leering, watched her leave, but unfortunately the departure of his target audience didn't dampen his enthusiasm and he began regaling Ross with the story of his latest adventure.

Ross tried his best to read the file but he couldn't concentrate.

“...of course, by that time I'd given her a dose of the ol' magic,” he said, grinning and raising one of his hands, pointing two fingers at the ceiling like a gun. Wisps of purple smoke wafted off his fingertips as if his hand really had turned into a gun. “And I left her with nothin' but a smile and a warm, fuzzy glow. See, Mikey? I can be nice.” He smiled lazily. Ross eyed the wisps of vapor, reaching for the remote in his pocket, but they soon dissipated.

James 'Psycho Delic' Yager had the ability to create chemical compounds that could be absorbed into another person's lungs or pores, producing feelings of euphoria, relaxation, or paranoia, or give them wild hallucinations, or drive them into screaming fits, or knock them out. He was a walking pharmacy.

Psycho Delic watched him with a gleam in his red eyes and Ross forced himself to relax.

“You're supposed to be concentrating on the investigation,” Ross said, glaring.

“Gaaaaaawwwwwd,” Psycho Delic groaned, letting his head fall over the back of the chair, nearly knocking off his fedora. He grabbed at it and wedged it more firmly onto his balding scalp. “I did my homework first thing, boss. Checked with Shnozzer. Nothing. Lewis. Zilch.” He ticked the names of his contacts off on his bony fingers. “Iggy, Reed, Wilco. Nada, nada, nada. Nobody's seen the little blue geek.” He swept his hands off to the sides in a cut-off gesture.”You got me going over the same ground again and again, barkin’ up the same goddamn trees, and I got news for you, he  _still_ ain't hangin' out at any bars or clubs or any other sleazeball dive.” 

His voice was getting pretty loud and his cheek began twitching. Ross held up his hands to try to quiet him and scrutinized him more closely. Come to think of it, Psycho Delic had sort of a lurch in his step when he first came in, and now that he looked, the whites of his eyes were almost as red as his irises.

Being highly resistant to most pharmaceuticals, Psycho Delic was on a constant search for something strong enough to get him high. It looked like he had, once again, found that something. Ross wondered what it was. Last time Psycho Delic had managed to get a buzz from vodka, drain cleaner, and Rogaine, and had to have his stomach pumped.

Ross shuddered at the memory. The guy would eat, snort, or inhale  _anything._

At least he was still upright, but whatever it was, it wouldn't last. Sooner or later his body would build up a resistance to whatever concoction was working its way through his bloodstream and Psycho Delic's search would begin anew.

Psycho Delic slumped in his chair with an exhalation. “Since he ain't anywhere else, I decided, hey, why not check with the girls?” He gave Ross a sly grin.

“With his injuries he's not going to go around looking for love  _now_ , James.” He looked around pointedly at the other agents at their desks, who were doing their best to concentrate on their paperwork. Some of them visited the ladies of the night themselves, but Psycho Delic's loud recollections put even the most callous of them to shame.

Besides which, he continually pushed the envelope on the definition of 'consent' as well, and not all of these agents were willing to look the other way if they heard Psycho Delic go into details. They might hear something illegal.

As usual, Psycho Delic ignored Ross's hints to shut up. He chuckled, exposing his too-long teeth. “Oh, he might, if he saw that little honey last night. She'd bring just about anyone back from the dead.”

He tipped his chair back so it balanced on its back legs and propped one of his feet on the edge of the desk, pushing his fedora back on his head, showing a large portion of his purple scalp. Though he was only in his twenties, he was nearly bald, making him look even more skeletal.

“You and me, we oughta go out on the town sometime,” he said. “What do you say? I'll show you around.”

“No thanks,” Ross said, turning to the computer monitor on the desk, looking for old files to delete. There must be something else he could do until Corbin got here, he wished he'd get here and give them their damn assignments already. There must be some junk to clean out, so he didn't have to listen to all this...

Psycho Delic burst out laughing and let the chair fall onto all four legs. Ross looked up in surprise.

Agents Corbin and Bates had entered the office.

“Lookit what the cat done dragged in!” Psycho Delic crowed, and he clapped his hands together and roared with laughter.

_He really is stoned,_ Ross thought wildly.

The harsh red scars on Corbin's face burned brighter red and his eyes flashed. Ross grabbed for the remote. He had to shut him up before...

...oh  _crap_ . It wasn't even in his pocket, he'd left it in his coat. Quickly he got up and headed for the coat rack on the wall.

Psycho Delic lurched to his feet. “Ho-lee shit, that little blue boy did a number on you! Had a fish up his sleeve, didn't he! Hee hee hee hee! Hoo boy, I'll bet even Sparkle doesn't want to kiss you now! What do you say, honey?”

Sparkle, who had emerged from the restroom at the sound of the ruckus, stood there with her hands clasped over her mouth in horror.

Ross grabbed his coat off the hook and fumbled for the remote. He whirled, startled, as Corbin snatched it away from him and depressed the shock button.

Psycho Delic's laughter stopped. His teeth clenched and his body stiffened as the electric shock tore through him. Convulsing, he fell across the desk, losing his hat and knocking the keyboard off, but Corbin didn't let up on the button until he fell to the floor.

Ross seized his arm. It was like grabbing an iron bar. “Stop, Ed! You'll kill him!” he shouted. Corbin didn't even look at Ross, and it was an endless five extra seconds before he finally lowered the remote.

Psycho Delic went limp with a weak moan. Corbin handed Ross the remote and he took it, breathing hard. Everyone looked around warily, not quite meeting anyone else's eyes. Even Bates stared at Corbin in alarm.

“Listen up people,” Corbin said, walking to the center of the room. “We go over the same ground as before. He may have another hideout, or he may have sought refuge with a friend, acquaintance, or family member.” The words came out stiffly from around his sore, swollen lip, as if he'd just come from the dentist office with a mouth shot full of novocaine.

He glared around the room. “Where's Ulrich?”

One of the agents cleared his throat. “They won't release him into our custody. Hasn't had his bail hearing yet. He attacked five police dogs and bit a cop. MCPD isn't going to do us any favors.”

Corbin shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “I'll deal with them later. Feiffer and Pitt, you will, respectfully and carefully, interview each person in the warden's family separately. Murray, go over all of their phone records.”  
An agent lifted his hand. “What about the wife? She's had no contact with Megamind for years and she's in the mental ward.”

_“Including_ the wife,” Corbin said. “Leave no stone unturned. Recently we discovered the current address of the warden's estranged son, Daniel. He and his girlfriend will also be interviewed. We will interview everyone who had contact with him in the last forty-eight hours, repeat,  _everyone,_ including the robbery victims. He may have said or done something that will provide a clue as to his whereabouts. What was that, Agent Stone?” he said sharply, whirling around.

The luckless agent shrugged. Corbin stalked toward him, limping a little, and Ross recalled that he had scars identical to the ones on his face plastered over the back of his upper thigh.

“It sounded almost like you said, 'gonna take until next Christmas',” Corbin said.

Stone tried not to stare at Corbin's still-swollen nose and fresh scars. He cleared his throat and said, “Uh, I only meant, that's a lot of people. Won't that take a long time, sir?”

“Why, you got a vacation coming up? No? Guess we better get started right away, then. Let's move, people!” he shouted, making Stone flinch. He turned and began to walk into his office, glancing at the still figure of Psycho Delic. Guiltily Ross realized that he should have gone to check on him.

“Take him to a cell,” Corbin ordered two agents. “Go with them to keep control,” he said to Ross. “He just lost all privileges, including that cozy little apartment he's so fond of. Get to work, people.”

Ross knelt down on one knee. The purple man had hit his head on the desk as he fell and his lip was drawn up into a sneer, even unconscious. Ross sighed. He had little liking for Psycho Delic and firmly believed that the country was best served if every single super-powered person were identified, collared, and monitored, but he disapproved of such harsh disciplinary methods. He would've given a brief jolt to remind Psycho Delic of his place, no more. He refused to use the word 'freak' as so many of his colleagues did. Which made him a better agent, he was certain.

They got the medics to bring around the stretcher. As they were bringing him down to the cell, the last agent came puffing up the stairs.

“Sorry I'm late,” he panted. “Does Corbin know?” He looked at the man on the stretcher. “Hey, what happened?”

Ross glanced back down the hallway. “Discipline problem,” he muttered.

\- - - - - 

One thing the apartment had was a bathtub crammed into the tiny bathroom, so Harry asked Megamind to take a bath, because he was starting to get kind of ripe. Noticing that the boy was showing stubble on his face he gave him a razor to use, and Megamind shaved gingerly, moving the razor with care over and around the sore spots.

While he was in the tub Harry brought down a load of clothes to the building's laundromat and washed the boy's things along with his own. Even after the wash, Megamind's shirt was just too far gone to be good for anything other than a rag, but at least the jeans were salvageable. It was a good thing too, because Harry's girth meant that the pants he'd loaned Megamind practically had to be tied onto him to keep them from slipping off his skinny frame completely. Harry didn't have enough change for the washer so he hung the pants, underwear, and socks over the heat vent to dry, and draped his own damp clothes around the windows and other areas in the apartment.

He gave the boy a v-necked t-shirt, which went over his large head easily, and two sweatshirts, which didn't.

By Sunday evening it was clear that Megamind's bruises were fading, the black to purple, and the purple to lavender, with red and even a little greenish-yellow around the edges. Harry had never seen so many colors on one person before. But as Megamind grew more alert and began complaining of boredom, Harry's worries lessened so he no longer thought about making calls for help, or even making an anonymous call to the warden.

He changed the bandage on his arm once.

“You gonna tell me how this happened?” he asked, looking at the thin, widely-spaced lines that marked half the boy's arm.

“Nah,” Megamind said with a brief gleam of amusement in his eye. “It would only worry you.”

Though the lacerations healed cleanly with no lasting damage to the muscles or nerves, Megamind remained scarred. If left alone, they probably would have disappeared without a trace, but the repeated twisting and re-opening of the wounds had done the job.

\- - - - -

On Monday Harry went in to work at his new job as a shelf stocker at a warehouse across town. Though it was only part time he needed to take two buses to get there so he was gone for most of the day. With his embezzlement record he would never find work as a bookkeeper again. He'd never meant to steal, only borrow. He'd always planned on paying everybody back just as soon as he hit the big time, which was sure to happen any day now. It was just taking a little longer than he'd thought.

As he entered the apartment building he ran into the landlady.

“You left your TV on,” she said accusingly, blowing a stream of noxious cigarette smoke into the hallway.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, wondering why he should even apologize, since he was the one who'd have to pay the electric bill anyway. But Mrs. Rotter made you feel like you had to apologize for signing a lease and paying her rent.

“You seen any sign of rats? Droppings? Noises?” she said as he made a move to continue on up the stairs.

“Just the cockroaches, but I got some traps, so...I mean, uh, maybe, why?” he said, heart beginning to pound.

She glared at him. “Heard some scuffling noises in your place. Hard to hear over the damn TV. You were out,” she said accusingly. “Had a problem with rats last year. So did you see or hear any?” She took another puff and watched him narrowly.

“Um, I might have, I'm not sure,” he said, face growing hot. He was a terrible liar.

“Check for droppings under the sink. You hear?”

After hurriedly assuring her he would, Harry clumped up the stairs.

He found Megamind lying on the floor with his head in the refrigerator, Minion chewing on a chicken thigh bone, and dozens of boxes and cans strewn around them in a semi-circle.

“What the...” Harry pushed an empty cereal box out of the way with his foot and quickly shut the door.

Minion dropped the bone and pushed it behind him with his fin.

“He got hungry,” he said, looking both pleased and guilty.

Harry gaped at the carnage. The encounter with the landlady had shaken him and all the litter on the floor left him speechless.

Because of the roaches he kept everything that was in an opened can or box in the fridge. Wrappers, empty cans of soup, spam, ravioli, and corned beef lay clean and bare on the floor. The box of Velveeta cheese was gone, and there'd been almost half a pound left. The milk, the leftover chicken, and the bread was gone, and even the mayonnaise jar lay empty, as if it had been licked clean.

The only thing left was the ice cube tray and a frozen pizza. There were a few unopened things in the cupboards, but not much.

Megamind opened one eye, then shut it again.

“Hey, Uncle Harry,” he said, and lifted a stick of butter to his mouth and took a bite.

“You know you're eating butter, right?” Harry said after a moment's shock.

“It's margarine,” Megamind mumbled. “Terrible.” He took another bite.

“You're going to make yourself sick, man! You could have at least heated something up!” Harry said. “Now would you get out of the fridge?” At the agitation in his voice they looked at him. He leaned over to grab the boy by an arm and a hand and helped him to his feet, and Megamind staggered into one of the kitchen chairs.

“I just felt so hungry. I turned the oven on for the pizza, but I just couldn't wait,” Megamind said groggily. Harry began picking up the discarded boxes and cans, but he waved Megamind back to his seat when he began to stand up.

“No, really, it's okay, you need to rest,” he said. “I'm glad you're eating again, but my landlady was up on this floor, man, she heard you guys moving around.”

Megamind said, “So that's who it was. We heard someone and saw her shadow under the door so we slipped into the bathroom. If she had come in we would've gone out the window. What did she say?”

“Thought you guys were rats.”

They looked at each other. “Not far off,” Megamind muttered and they began giggling. Harry shook his head. Clearly they were both feeling better. Minion's scrape had closed up and the bruise on the side of his head had faded. He was healing about as quickly as Megamind.

“Costing me money here,” he grumbled, wondering what they were going to eat for the rest of the week. He wouldn't get paid until next week. Then he regretted saying it aloud. He really was relieved that Megamind was eating again, but he wasn't exactly raking in the cash here. Not until the racetrack opened for the season anyway. He didn't dare ask his ex-wife for another loan.

They sobered immediately. “I'll pay you back, Uncle Harry,” Megamind said quietly. “Soon. I'll restock the refrigerator.”

Harry grimaced, feeling guilty. He hadn't meant to make the boy feel bad for getting hungry. And what a hunger! “No, it's okay, we'll manage,” he said hurriedly, knowing that Megamind would fill it with stolen goods. Then again, he wasn't in much of a position to refuse. “Don't do anything risky.” He sighed as he picked up the empty box of chocolate chip Pop Tarts. Those were his favorite flavor.

“Those were pretty good,” Megamind said wistfully. “I didn't think a pastry out of a box would be so good, but those weren't half bad.”

“I got another,” Harry said, taking an unopened box of strawberry-flavored ones out of the cupboard. “You just ate 'em cold? You should try 'em toasted.”

He noticed how their faces brightened when he brought out the second box. Since he didn't have a toaster he put a couple into the warmed-up oven. Both alien boys stared at the oven, mouths slightly open, as the scent of the toasting Pop Tarts filled the room. After a couple of minutes, Harry fished them out.

Megamind carefully broke off a corner, blew on it a few times, fed it to Minion, then took another for himself. Harry smiled at the way their eyes bulged.

“I can't believe you guys never had Pop Tarts before,” he said, chuckling.

“And I thought doughnuts were good,” Minion said, wonder in his voice. “Wow.”

“When we get our new lair,” Megamind said with fevered devotion, “there will be a room set aside  _specifically_ for these Pop-ped Tarts.” They had indulged in a few frenzied nights of junk food binging, trying out all sorts of chips, candy, and other delightful concoctions they had never even dreamed existed, but he and Minion hadn't looked into the breakfast aisles at the grocery stores much. What was breakfast, anyway? Toast, dried-out scrambled eggs, cold cereal, or rubbery pancakes was the usual grub served at the prison, nothing special, other than the pancake syrup. The warden had occasionally given them with doughnuts, which, up until now, were the height of breakfast cuisine. They'd overlooked an entire glorious culinary experience.

Harry let them eat the whole box. Minion's small stomach could only handle a little at a time, but Megamind's had turned into a bottomless pit.

Harry took some pizza slices for himself so he wouldn't go hungry before turning it over to them. About halfway through Megamind finally began to slow down and he laid his head on the table., a half-eaten slice in his hand.

“Maybe you better go lie down and digest for a while,” he said. “Wait a minute.” He raised a hand as Megamind began to stand up. “Your ribs feeling better?”

Megamind lifted the layers of shirts, the t-shirt and two sweatshirts to show his chest.

The bruises were fading there, too, just like the ones on his head and face. Patches of blue were visible among the black and dwindling purple contusions. Not surprisingly, his stomach bulged from the food rampage.

Less than seventy two hours after a savage beating, Megamind was on the mend.

“See?” he said with a smug grin. “Be good as new in no time. Or  _bad_ as new. I think, Minion,” he added with a wink, “I may be getting my strength back.”

\- - - - -

_**Please review. :)** _

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dialogue about Pop Tarts on Tumblr helped inspire the final scene. A person who runs a blog called megamindyelling played the role of Megamind extolling the virtues of Pop Tarts. Highly recommended. (Both the blog and Pop Tarts.)


	24. Of Course, You Know This Means War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "While persistence offers no guarantees, it does give 'luck' a chance to operate, either through unknown allies, or unknown weaknesses in the opposition." -Tom Shippey, The Road to Middle-Earth

As Melanie Parker turned her car onto the street that led to her house, she frowned. She'd noticed two things: her father sitting on the front steps, and a dead cat lying next to his feet.

Jaw tightening she pulled into the driveway. Dad didn't look over at her as she drove up, but just sat there, face blank, looking down at his clasped hands, elbows on knees.

Melanie's hands trembled as she took the key out of the ignition and she grabbed her purse and backpack with her textbooks. Getting out, she slammed the door shut, walked slowly up the sidewalk, and sat next to Dad on the damp steps, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

For the past few days Dad had been on the rampage, spending hours on the phone, stalking around the house with a face like thunder. She'd heard from her seventeen year old brother Sammy how two men had come to the house and Dad had threatened to have them arrested if they ever came on his property again, then slammed the door in their faces.

Sammy's usual slouching indifference had given way to fear. “I think they were from the FBI or something,” he said, looking pale. “We're probably all going to get arrested. You think the house is bugged?”

Melanie had snorted in exasperation. “If it is, they're going to be bored out of their skulls. What are they going to hear? All you do is watch TV.”

When Melanie heard that federal agents had actually gone to the hospital to question Mom she'd been shocked, and furious. Dad had been so livid she feared he'd have a stroke.

There were more phone calls, to the lawyer, to the police, to the state governor, to some people in Washington, D.C. Who did he know in Washington?

And now all the furious activity seemed to have come to an end.

She glanced down at the cat, an undersized gray tabby with black stripes. Its lip curled back to show perfect sharp little incisors, as if it were still snarling defiance at the world.

“It got hit by a car,” Dad said. “Lying in the gutter.”

She looked from him to the cat, then around at the street. A blue station wagon drove slowly by. And here they were sitting on wet front steps under gray clouds. A drop of rain landed on her head, then another on her knee.

“Dad, let's go inside.” She wondered for a moment if she'd have to help him to his feet, but he nodded and slowly rose. He walked straight-backed inside. Melanie got a shovel out of the garage and used it to move the cat back by the garbage can. She took the lid off the first one, but then hesitated.

It was just a stray cat. It didn't mean anything.

But instead of dumping it into the can, she found an old tarp in the garage and laid the cat on it. She felt a little stupid, but maybe they could bury it later.

She found Dad sitting in the living room staring at the turned-off TV and she felt suddenly impatient and angry.

“I hope you washed your hands after handling that cat,” she said. Dad looked at her in surprise, then looked down at where his hands lay in his lap.

“Wash up and come into the kitchen.” She marched away, hearing him get out of the chair.

She busied herself filling the tea kettle, listening to the water run in the downstairs bathroom. Full of nervous energy she put away some of the dishes sitting in the dish rack. Soon he came in and sat at the table. She really didn't know what to say, but she had a night class that she had to get ready for soon, so she'd better think of something. At least Sammy was at a friend's house so they wouldn't get interrupted.

She sat down at a corner chair so they were shoulder to shoulder but not facing off. What could she say? Don't fall apart? Quit worrying about that alien child? He's not really yours anyway?

Her anger and resentment were irrational, but Dad always seemed to be wasting his time on troublemakers, first her older brother Dan, and then, when he was out of the picture, on Blue. Megamind.

She and Sammy were barely on his radar.

“They found these contraptions,” he said. She gave him a puzzled look.

“Who, Dad?” she said.

“In his hideout. The police didn't know what they were at first, then someone figured out they emitted these sounds that humans can't hear, but mice and rats can. He made them to keep out pests.”

She nodded. “I've seen things like that advertised on TV.”

“He made them,” Dad repeated. “He didn't set traps or put out poison. And now he's the object of a city-wide manhunt. Why did they send him here?”

Melanie gritted her teeth and rubbed a hand down her face. _Well, at least he's talking,_ she told herself, and willed patience into her voice.

“Dad, I'm not following.”

“His people,” he said. “I saw a movie, where they said every transmission that has ever been made on Earth goes out into space, and they go on forever. Did they pick up radio and TV transmissions about the United States, and all our talk of equality and justice? Is that why they sent him here?” His face tightened and he shook his head. “Or were they just so desperate they didn't have any other choice?”

He looked at her then, his eyes as sharp as ever. She blinked, startled. She'd expected the same dull, hopeless gaze she'd seen in her mother's eyes.

“I have a duty,” he said. “You understand?”

She looked away so he wouldn't see any resentment in her face. “Yeah, I do,” she said.

“One of my worst fears,” he continued, “is that Megamind is lying in some abandoned building somewhere, too hurt to move. Minion with him, trapped, unable to do anything. They took his robot suit away, you know.”

“Well, he can't be too bad off, if he could rob a couple of different stores right after escaping,” she responded. “You really don't have any idea where he could have gone? What about those men, those uncles?”

Parker shook his head. “No. They've checked. Repeatedly. All of them. Maybe he had another hideout.” But would he have really needed to rob those places for supplies if he had? To take a different car, sure, he would have wanted to be more difficult to track, but stealing water, and first aid supplies?

A little thought moved in the back of his mind, some inconsequential thing, but as the tea kettle began to whistle it flickered and was gone again.

Melanie pushed her chair back with a scrape and got up.

 _But couldn't you spare a little more time for Sammy? For me? Your own flesh and blood?_ She set those thoughts aside. It was selfish. She knew that, whatever troubles she had, she and Sammy were so much luckier than Megamind and Minion. But it seemed like Dad had another family squirreled away in the prison, and they were the real priority in his life.

She reached into the cupboard and took out two cups, frowning as she set them down on the greasy counter. Sammy claimed to have cleaned the kitchen this morning, but he'd done a sloppy job. She'd have to talk to him about...

Dad said, “You have to stop sending Dan money.”

She knocked over one of the cups. Fumbling, throat constricting with fear, she righted it, amazed that it hadn't broken or chipped.

No. He couldn't possibly know...oh, he must be so angry.

She turned around, swallowing hard, trying to think of some excuse, but he sat there looking at her quietly, and he didn't look mad. The truth came tumbling out.

“I...I tried,” she said. “I mean, I just loaned him a little. A few times. But he keeps calling. I changed my cell number, but...”

She blinked, hugging her arms around her waist. “He came and met me after one of my classes, strung out on something, I just gave him some money to make him go away again. But he keeps coming around.” _Dan disheveled, twitching, talking too loud, her classmates staring as she grabbed his arm and hurried him away...his whining... she gave in and pulled a few bills out of her purse, his pathetic promises to pay her back real soon..._

Dad pushed the chair back and walked over to her, putting his arms around her.

“Melanie, I'm sorry. This has gone on long enough. Has he ever threatened you?”

She bit her lip, unable to look at him. “Once,” she mumbled. “But it was a while ago.”

“It doesn’t matter how long ago,” Dad said. “We are going to go to the police station and get a restraining order.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s too late in the day now. We’ll go in tomorrow.”

“What good is a restraining order?” she grumbled, reaching behind him to get the kettle and filling the cups with shaking hands. Dan wasn't going to care about some piece of paper.

“There must be rules about trespassers on campus,” he said. “We're going to look into that, too. Does Dan have your new number? All right, you give me your phone, I'll get you a different one,” he said as she nodded. “When he calls your number, I'll be the one who talks to him.”

“He doesn't call that often,” Melanie said. “Months go by sometimes.”

“We'll get you a new phone anyway. If he bothers you again, he will be arrested. Dan's not crazy about jail, you know. Tell him that the next time he contacts you. Do you know where he lives?”He was giving serious thought to going to his eldest son's house and telling him, _again,_ that he was not welcome. How many times did he have to keep kicking him out of the family?

Melanie shook her head. “I think he was living with some girl in Grover Heights for a while, but I don't know if he's still there or not.”

“The police'll figure it out. It's their job.”

“Why do you care so much about Blue, Dad?” As long as they were having all this openness, she might as well get something out of it.

Parker considered the question. “Because he's young and, genius he might be, he's still a stupid kid. Because of where he had to grow up. Because he's had three strikes against him ever since he came here. Because I'm all he's got.”

She bit her lip. She hadn't even tried to visit him and Minion, not since she was twelve and her mother made her go. After Mom's admittance to the psych ward, she had been scared and lost, and Dad was so stressed out about everything. She was afraid to talk about Blue, afraid to talk about _anything,_ because anything she said might send Dad over the edge, too.

Not-talking was the way to go. Safer. She didn't like going to the prison and, though she felt bad for Blue and Minion, it wasn't enough to make her want to go.

Plus Dan had become a major concern. Generally belligerent and hostile, he became even worse after their mother was admitted. So she learned. Learned to keep an eye out for him, to notice when he was in the house and when he snuck out, and if he came home drunk, and Dad wasn't around, she learned to seize her little brother's hand and take him with her to go hide in her room. Soon she and Sammy had a system worked out perfectly: keep out of Dan's way, and take care of the house. They were so good at preparing meals, doing laundry, and getting their homework done that it took a long time for Dad to realize that their big brother was not exactly the ideal babysitter.

“How do you feel about getting two new little brothers?” said Dad.

Melanie snorted. “Don't even joke about that.”

He shrugged. “You never know.”

Melanie stared at him, gripping her tea cup. “Have you talked to Mom about this?”

“She was the one who brought it up, when she was home.”

“I'm...surprised.” She chewed her lip. “You know she's not exactly mentally competent.”

“Well, I can get the process started. See what needs to be done. I get the feeling it's going to take a long time to finalize anyway. I'm anticipating some major roadblocks.”

She leaned back in the chair. “You really want to go through with something like that. Just when we're finally getting Dan out of...” She pressed her lips together. “And you want to bring those two into the family.”

Dad gave her a somber look. “I know it won't be easy. But if I don't do everything I can for them now, I will regret it for the rest of my life. There is so much I could have done better. Or sooner. Daniel had plenty of chances. They've had almost none.”

She tore open a wrapper off a tea bag and dunked it into the cup, spilling a little over the side, clenching her teeth.

“So, you adopt them, and then what? They move in?” she snapped. Didn't she have enough to do around here?

“I don't know,” he said quietly. “They didn't have criminal records before, but they sure as hell do now. Once they're in the legal system for real, maybe they'll get sent to juvenile hall.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “Can you imagine Blue locked up with a bunch of other hotheads all the same age? I don't know if either he or juvie would survive. The sponsors will probably...I don't know what they'll do. Such a mess.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He tried to take a sip of tea, but it was still too hot. He should have tried to talk with the Scotts earlier, to see if some compromise could be worked out. Maybe they would agree to provide a caretaker, or private tutors, if he could bring the boys home. If the courts would allow it. If the Alien Oversight Committee would allow it.

A caretaker! Yeah, Blue would love that. _Since I am not an infant, warden, I fail to see why I require a nanny,_ he imagined Blue saying with a sneer.

Did he dare to try to send them to school again? Minion had not been enrolled at the Lil' Gifted School, he had just sort of tagged along.

It would be nice to know, he thought, if we took the pressure off, and actually treated them as something other than dangerous criminals, if they would settle down, be constructive. But he had a bad feeling that he was attempting to dig in his heels against a thousand tons of runaway train.

He looked at Melanie. Her eyes were downcast, and she had a stony look on her face.

“It would all be on me,” he murmured. “I don't expect you to look after them. You've done a fine job looking after things, but I don't want to add to your burdens. And you've got school to think of.”

Melanie looked out the window, feeling her ears grow hot. Rain fell heavily against the glass and a gust of wind made the branches of the maple tree in the backyard whip around. She struggled to find some way out of the morass of resentment she found herself in.

Then she remembered something she hadn't thought about in years.

\- - - - - -

The last time she'd seen Blue and Minion had been in one of the visitation rooms at the prison. Mom had taken her, Dan, and Sammy along as usual, but had left them to their own devices. Melanie had taken along a stack of comic books to read as a defense mechanism. She often loaned them to Blue. The comics were also handy things to hide behind, if Dan became too unpleasant.

This time Dan wasn't willing to leave her alone. While their mother, who had grown increasingly distant and distracted over the past few months, stared blankly out the window, Dan kept pestering Melanie, jabbing her in the back of the head, insulting her choice of reading material, and suddenly he tore the comic out of her hands, ripping the cover.

“Hey!” she wailed, tears stinging her eyes.

Blue shouted “Leave her alone!” And charged, a little six year old whirlwind. Dan just about had his legs kicked out from under him, but he soon recovered his balance and clobbered him over the head.

Their mother turned around just in time to see Dan wallop the smaller boy.

 _“Danny!”_ she yelled, and sprang to life with a fury that caught them all by surprise. She grabbed the arm of her hulking sixteen year old son and marched him out of the room.

Melanie, shaking, crouched down by Blue. Minion had hurried over to join the fray, but their mother Joyce had reacted so quickly he hadn't had time to do anything.

“I woulda bit him,” Minion said, fins sweeping the water. Encased in the little two-foot-high robot suit, he sat down on the floor next to Blue.

“You'll get him next time, Minion. What a jerk,” Blue growled, rubbing his head.

“That was stupid,” Sammy said, frowning. “He's too big to fight.”

“For you, maybe,” Blue snapped. “Somebody's got to protect our sister.”

Sammy went red in the face. “She's not your sister! You really are stupid if you don't even know that.”

“Sammy! Stop it!” cried Melanie. She looked at Blue. “I thought you were very brave. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Blue said sullenly, and turned his back on the both of them.

But she'd seen the hurt in his eyes. And she hadn't told Sammy he was wrong.

\- - - - - - -

“If they really are going to be part of the family,” she said slowly, feeling her way along, “then we're all going to have to figure out how to get along. And if they move in...” she sighed and fidgeted with the tea cup. “Well, they can't just rattle around the house all day by themselves. They _have_ to go to school, Dad.” She frowned at him. “What sort of schooling have they had anyway?”

He shifted in his chair. “There have been a few tutors, over the years. None of them last long. It became a game with him, to see how quickly he could drive them away.”

“That's encouraging,” she said, taking a sip.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, grimly raising his own cup to his lips. They sat quietly for a while, drinking tea and pondering the difficulties that loomed ahead of them.

Melanie glanced at the clock above the sink. “I have to go to class. Don't say anything about this adoption business to Sammy yet. We should tell him together.”

He looked puzzled. “You don't think he'd take it well?” She frowned back at him. He really didn't know Sammy as well as she did.

“Dad, I _know_ he won't.”

\- - - - - - -

Some genius in the Metro City Police Department put two and two together and realized that the beast man they had locked up their strongest cell was wanted by the Viennese police. Ulrich Hofstetter, unwilling to be hauled back to Vienna to face possible murder charges, had called DPI that morning, demanding to be protected from extradition or he'd start talking about certain things he really shouldn't be talking about.

It was very unwelcome news for Corbin, and he and his agents were discussing their options, legal and otherwise, in regard to the matter, when a woman knocked lightly on the door and let herself in. Corbin was in no mood for even the politest of intrusions, but she announced that she was Dena Jackson from Internal Affairs and could she have a moment...?

There was an immediate hush and a rapid exodus of agents, and Corbin was alone in the room, sweat filling his armpits, while the I.A. investigator sat herself down, adjusted her glasses, and opened her briefcase.

A black woman of medium height, with braided hair tied firmly at the back of her neck, she wore a dark purple blazer over a matching skirt, and glasses on a silver chain that hung around her neck, which she set on the end of her nose and began turning pages in a large folder on her lap. She rifled through the pages for an excessively long time, he was _sure_ of it! Because it was the sort of thing _he_ would do, making the victim wait and squirm and lose their cool, waiting for the terrible questions to begin.

After inquiring about his health, and offering sympathy for the injury he had sustained, the questions began, the first one being her surprise at finding him here at the office, when usually under such circumstances she would have expected him to take a leave of absence.

“It's not required,” he said shortly. “I prefer to work.”

“I see.” She adjusted her glasses on the end of her nose and began the interrogation.

He did fine, and stuck to his version of events, until right up near the end.

“I'm sure you must be very busy, Agent Corbin, I just have a few more concerns,” she said. “Now, according to the FBI negotiator who attempted to convince Megamind to surrender...”  
_Those morons!_ Corbin fumed silently. _We might have been able to use the cell phone signal to track him. But they butt in and try to get him to pull over. Idiots!_

“Ms. Montgomery states that Megamind accused you of strangling him. Mentioned it twice, in fact. Can you tell me why he would say something like that?”

“Just trying to make trouble, I think,” Corbin said. “In my attempt to subdue him, I did use a choke hold. Common procedure, just like with cops.”

Ms. Jackson bent her head and scribbled a note. “According to the police report, the suspect was apprehended by Metro Man at about 3:25 AM, and turned over to police at that time, and turned over to your custody shortly thereafter, at approximately 3:35, does that seem about right?”

He nodded. “More or less. Wasn't looking at the clock.”

“Of course.” Ms. Jackson nodded in understanding. “You had the suspect to secure...excuse me, two suspects. Very easy to overlook Minion. I understand that you believed he posed no threat at the time?”

She peered up at him over her glasses and he felt his hackles rising. He couldn't tell if she were sympathizing with him or accusing him of negligence.

“Yes, that's right,” he said, when he was sure he could control his voice. He gestured at his face. “Guess it's easy to tell there's more to him than meets the eye. I'm not going to underestimate him again.”

“But there is a minor discrepancy I need to address,” said the infernal woman. “It seems that, according to the reports from both your department and of the FBI agents that came to offer assistance, Megamind made his escape from the parking garage at 4:39 AM, over an hour later.” She looked at him with a penetrating stare. “That is a _very_ long time, Agent Corbin. Can you explain what you were doing?”

Corbin had prepared for this. “It takes a good twenty-five minutes to drive from the south side back to the federal building,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And the morning commute gets started pretty early around here. That's practically rush hour.”

“Oh, yes, I know, I live in Chicago now but I used to live here, a few years ago,” she said with a chuckle. “It does get pretty bad, especially on the crosstown. So I went to the cabinet workshop this morning at 3:35 and drove over your route.”

Under the desk, Corbin dug his fingernails into his forearm.

“And it took me about half an hour to reach the federal building. Thirty-one minutes, to be exact. If traffic was as bad on the morning in question, that still leaves over half an hour unaccounted for.” Her eyes hardened. “Did you stop anywhere on your way?”

Corbin crossed his arms over his chest as a memory surfaced. “Yes. As a matter of fact. I remember now. The suspect complained of a stomach ache, claimed he was going to vomit. Agent Bates pulled over, and we stayed parked by the side of the road until he felt ready to resume the journey.”

 _Try to find something wrong with that,_ he thought with a feeling of triumph. And it was the truth too! Somehow he hadn't even thought to include it in his original report. _That must have been when he palmed the lock pick. Had it hidden somewhere on him, one of his boots, maybe, or a seam in his clothing._

For some reason, Ms. Jackson did not seem impressed. One of her eyebrows lifted slightly. “You were parked on the side of the road for half an hour,” she said, her voice flat.

His eyes darted away before he could stop himself. “Yes, well, not quite that long. Traffic was bad.”

Expressionless, she wrote something down on her notepad.

“Agent Corbin,” she said, removing her glasses and letting them fall to the end of their slender chain. She leaned her forearms on the desk, resting one over the other. “It is imperative that your statements on the night in question are as accurate as possible. There have been an unusually large number of complaints associated with DPI. Mistreatment of prisoners, excessive use of force, violation of rights, and so forth. This situation has produced fourteen new lawsuits. I will need to see the security video from the parking garage as soon as possible. Now, unfortunately, since Director Goldberg has already requested it, I will now have to go through channels in order to...”

“Goldberg! He can't...” Corbin blurted, and she gave him a sharp look. He forced himself to talk more quietly. “I mean, it's just that Assistant Director Nichols and I have already decided that it's in the best interests of the agency that the tape remain in my possession, for the time being.”

She stared at him in silence for several frantic thuds of his heart.

“It is not up to you or the Assistant Director to pick and choose which procedures to follow,” she said coldly. “Director Goldberg expects to receive the tape soon, by the end of the week if possible, so that it can then be sent to me.” She shook her head in annoyance. “All the way to Washington, just so they can send it all the way back here,” she grumbled.

“I'm sure I don't need to remind you that your statements will be matched against what is seen on tape. If you remember anything else about that night, anything at all no matter how insignificant, it would be in your best interests to notify me right away. Now, do you need to talk to someone on our legal team? I would advise it.”

As if he'd go running to I.A. for legal advice! What kind of fool did she take him for! He worked his jaw. “I don't need defense.”

“Very well.” Straightening back up, she rearranged a few papers and closed the folder. She took her business card out of her pocket and laid it on the desk. “In case you suddenly remember anything else.” Tucking the folder into her briefcase she stood up. Corbin stood up as well, operating on automatic.

“Good day, Agent Corbin.” She nodded and went out.

\- - - - -

It took another half hour for Corbin to track down Nichols over the phone.

“What happened to your good buddy Mike in Internal Affairs?” Corbin snarled. “I had an officer from I.A. grilling me this morning.”

“Mike's in the hospital. Pneumonia,” said Nichols in a distant sort of voice.

“Fine time to get sick! Goldberg can't see that tape. What the hell is the matter with you? He sees that footage, I'm ruined. The little freak was blabbing about Tanaka, too, if they hear that, they're going to take another look, _real_ close, at the Tanaka robbery. Is that what you want?”

“It's the best I could do, Goldberg wanted to summon you here so you could report to him personally! I _tried,_ you've got to believe me,” Nichols hissed. Panic oozed from the phone. “That Parker is making a big stink, his lawyer is demanding to see the tape too, these lawsuits, Goldberg's poking around in _everything._ ”

Corbin pounded a fist on the desk. “He _cannot_ see it. Get Psi-link to give him a little mental nudge in the right direction.”

There was a short pause. Nichols cleared his throat. “Well...actually...”

Corbin pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily. “All right, what happened?”

“He's in the hospital too. Got hit by a bus.”

“A _psychic_ got hit by a bus. Seriously? He really didn't see it coming at _all?”_

“You know he's just an empath! He was trying to improve his precognition. The ambulance workers said he was walking around with a blindfold.”

Corbin put the phone down on the desk and rubbed his hands over his eyes to compose himself. His palm brushed against the scabs marring his cheek and he trailed his fingers down to touch his lip. Scar tissue pulled the skin back, making the corner of his mouth curve slightly up into a genteel snarl, leaving two of his teeth exposed and prone to drying out.

He breathed hard, rage building in him. A good-looking man, he was used to catching admiring glances from women, and enjoyed a certain amount of envy from other men.

No longer. The lopsided oval pattern of scars on his face made him look like a bumbling idiot who had crashed head first into a barb-wire fence. Now people glanced at him and quickly looked away again, or avoided looking at him at all.

 _That fish's life will be measured in hours when I get my hands on him,_ he thought. _Roasted alive. And Megamind will watch every second of his friend's agony._

He picked up the phone receiver again.

Nichols's drone floated through the air even before he brought it to his ear. “...handle him. Doesn't even need a collar, you said. You can't handle one little alien boy. You know, this would be easier if he _had_ shot you, nobody'd listen to him then. Imagine the roadblocks. Every cop and his brother would run him to ground.” He took a long drink of something. Corbin guessed that it wasn't water.

“Would you shut up?” Corbin snapped. “You have got to convince Goldberg and I.A. that they don't need to see the tape. Got that?”

“You better stop harassing the Parkers.” Nichols said.

“Like hell I will,” Corbin growled. “Parker knows something and I'm going to find out what.” Just for getting up Corbin's nose, the warden would pay.

“You got to ask yourself,” Nichols slurred. “How does that pencil-pusher, who can barely keep up with his mortgage or pay his wife's medical bills, struggling to put a daughter through college, how does he afford a high-powered attorney like Miranda Tolliver? Ask yourself that.”

Corbin barely stopped himself from slamming the phone against the desk. “Just. Tell me.” He had no patience left for riddles.

“There are currents, my friend, and cross-currents. Better for you if you just leave the Parkers alone, Ed. Quit sending interrogators to the missus. She's in the mental ward, for God's sake. Otherwise you might bring on the wrath of certain...people. If you want to get out of this _scott free_ , you'll take my advice.” He gave a slightly hysterical giggle.

Corbin's mouth twitched in irritation at Nichols's exaggeration, but his brows knitted together in consternation. “Are you saying...”

“Yep. They are watching from afar. Keeping a roof over his head, paying the bills, giving the warden a free lawyer, etcetra.”

“But why?” he said, mystified. Why would the Scotts, one of the richest families in the country and with their own orphaned alien boy to look after, why would they care what happened to that hell-raising brat?

“Beats me,” Nichols hiccuped again. “Maybe they got a soft spot for little lost alien orphans. Lady Scott's got about two hundred worthy causes keeping her busy. Maybe this is one of 'em. Maybe she thinks her boy and the prison brat were best buddies in school or something. Who the hell cares? Just take my advice and keep out of Parker's hair.”

“Fine,” Corbin growled. “But I am telling you right now. You get I.A. off my back and get Goldberg to rescind that request for the security tape. If I go down, I am not going down alone. You hear me? You better be sober tomorrow when you go in.”

He slammed the phone back into its cradle.

\- - - - -

Corbin did most of his shopping at night. Not only did people avoid his gaze, he avoided theirs as well, so he wouldn't see their mingled looks of pity and wariness.

He walked quickly through the aisles of Big Mart. As he put things into the basket, images of Megamind in chains overlaid his vision.

 _I will wipe that arrogant smirk off his face once and for all,_ he thought, picking up packages of Hamburger Helper. _A set of ankle chains. Two sets of chains. Better yet, let’s see how well he can run with broken ankles. See how fast he heals from that._

He was not too concerned about what the Scotts would do. They obviously weren’t willing to stick their necks out too far, especially since Megamind vandalized their mansion. Maybe they were even now informing Mrs. Tolliver to drop the lawsuits and strike the warden from her list of clients.

 _Hey, it’s not like I have much choice,_ he imagined telling the groaning alien lying before him. _I don't_ _**have** _ _to be the bad guy. You brought this on yourself. You shouldn't have attacked me and run away. Are you really any better off? Your only friend dead, and you crippled? And guess what, you_ _**still** _ _have to work for me, for the rest of your life. How long that is, well, that's up to you._

He blinked, and realized he had been staring at the same shelf for who knew how long. Dropping a can of soup into the basket, he brought his items to the checkout. But while the cashier rang up his purchases, he once again became lost in thought.

 _Pressure cuffs,_ he thought. _Let's see him wriggle out of those._ Pressure cuffs were extremely illegal and banned in most countries, including the United States, for their tendency to cause gangrene, but Corbin knew where he could get a hold of a set. Megamind was a flight risk, he should insert a tracking device under his skin, between the shoulder blades where he couldn't get at it. A couple of other supers Corbin knew had clawed such devices out of their arms, so desperate were they to flee.

The cashier cleared his throat for a second time. Corbin pulled his thoughts back to the present moment and looked at the cashier's apologetic smile.

“This card doesn't work,” the man said.

“It's a debit card,” Corbin said. “Of course it works.”

“It says insufficient funds.”

Corbin reached out, took the card back, and stared at it. Yes, this was his bank card, not one of his credit cards. Insufficient funds? That couldn't be right.

“Run it through again.”

With a slight grimace, the cashier ran it through again. “Sorry, sir,” he said, pressing his lips together in sympathy. “Would you like to try another card?”

Feeling light headed, Corbin shook his head and scrounged around in his pockets until he came up with enough cash to buy the cereal, two boxes of Hamburger Helper, and the milk, then hurried over to the store's ATM machine. Normally he only used the ATM next to his bank because there was no fee, but he had to know. It took two tries to punch in the correct PIN number and he snatched at the receipt as it blipped out of its little slot.

The balance on his account read $0.00.

He drove home in a wave of panic and rage, and got back to his apartment just in time to catch a phone call from a collection agency, regarding a state-of-the-art washer and dryer that he definitely had not purchased, but which the caller was equally certain that he had. It was to be the first of many such calls.

\- - - - -

When Corbin talked about it the next day, he received no sympathy.

“You think you got it bad,” Bates snapped, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I been getting collection agencies calling us half the night too. Because of $2,000 worth of overdue fines from the library! And a hotel bill from the Plaza, with all this room service for a masuesse and adult movies! Jessie was giving me hell. I had to sleep on the couch.”

“At least you guys get to go home,” Wachowski cried. “I've been getting these bills for these 1-900 numbers. Darlene threw me out.” He fished a pack of cigarettes out of a rumpled suit pocket. “I'm gonna break his neck.”

Corbin came around the desk and grabbed the cigarettes out of his hand. “The little freak has to be taken alive, and seen to be alive,” he said, eyes hard. Wachowski glared at him and sullenly looked away.

He looked around at the small group assembled in the office. “Only me, Bates, and Wachowski got hammered with this crap. We're the only ones he knows by name. And the offshore accounts are untouched. Which means he hasn't hacked the computers. If he had, he'd have found the profiles of the other two who were with us the night he got arrested. Now let me hear what you've got on the leads.”

There was a collective sigh and rustling of paper. “Got this weird case, some guy got his ear bitten off. Could’ve been Minion.”

Corbin waved an impatient hand and the agent continued. “Tyler Chadwick, age 26, he’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Says he saw an abandoned car and stopped to render assistance...yeah, right...found someone passed out in the front seat, and then, I quote, ‘the guy threw a severed head at me, like the headless horseman, and it was all full of teeth and it bit my ear off.’ Unquote.”

“Any other description? He talk to this guy?”

“You mean before or after he got his ear chewed off?” muttered Bates.

“Nobody likes a smart-ass, Bates. Well? Is that it? No other information?”

The agent shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“You got his address? Go question him again. Find out where this ‘abandoned’ car was. Come on, people! Give me something I can use,” Corbin snapped. “Let’s go over the uncles again.”

“All of the uncles have come up clean. Victor Spinelli, Julio Gomez, Patrick ‘Pudge’ O'Riley, Leo Naborov, and Jack Hughes. O'Riley has a cabin up north, but we've checked it out, no one's used it in years.”

“What about the robbery victims? Anything?”

Ross raised his head. “Noticed one thing.” He stood up and walked to the front of the room with a video tape. “This is from the Kum 'n Go gas station.” He inserted the tape into the player and stepped back. They all watched as the recording showed a grainy image of Megamind lurch into view, Minion clutched in one arm and the semi-automatic gripped in his other hand. There was no sound; most public surveillance systems do not record sound as this is considered to be an invasion of privacy.

“Watch his reaction here. Look,” Ross said, pointing at the screen. “The clerk says Megamind walked in, forced everyone out, then demanded his car. But see here? Once all the customers are gone, Megamind's body language changes, his shoulders slump, he becomes more relaxed. And here, the clerk says something, and Megamind closes his eyes and hangs his head, and then looks up again, and only _then_ raises the gun. Doesn't even point it at him, points it at the ceiling.”

“Temporary dizziness,” Corbin said.

“Could be. Or emotional distress over something the clerk said.” Ross rewinded the tape and showed it again. “He was very vague in his official statements. I think Megamind and this Ronald Jenkins know each other. They've met before.”

Corbin slowly paced the length of the room, one hand resting on his chin. The leads were getting pretty weak, if this is what they had to go with. But he would pursue every lead that came his way, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

“All right. Bring in Ronnie Jenkins for questioning.”

\- - - - -

But when Ross and Psycho Delic went to collect Ronnie Jenkins, they were informed by his roommate that he had taken off for the weekend. Where he was going he wasn't sure, though he quickly recalled, once Psycho Delic invaded his personal space and began grinning at him, that he thought he might have been planning on visiting his grandparents in Grand Rapids.

\- - - - -

The next day dawned under a beautiful cloudless sky.

The routine in the federal building was well underway, with two hours to go until lunch, when the lights went out. Every computer screen went blank, and the security cameras went dead. Everyone in the DPI and FBI offices groaned and complained. The emergency lights came on and sunlight still came in the windows so they weren't in complete blackness, but annoyance turned to alarm when someone went to push open a door that led out to a hallway and discovered that it was locked.

Every door that had an electronic lock was shut tight, which was nearly every door in the building, except for a few maintenance closets that used keys, and the restrooms. Everyone was trapped where they were, except for a few that had been in the restrooms, but the most they could do was go out into the halls. They couldn't even use the emergency exits. And all the landlines were dead.

Eventually, the FBI director remembered the number of the guard at the front door and called him on their cell phone.

“I can't get out, either,” the guard said, looking out the plate glass of the doors and shaking the handles. Of course, they remained closed, but it was the same impulse that compelled people to repeatedly hit elevator buttons. “I called the power company, they're working on it. We could break out if we really had to.”

“No, don't do that. No need for property damage. It's not like we're really in any danger here.” Director Lewis frowned and lifted the blinds at his window. His office door had been closed at the time, and, since it had its own lock, he was trapped inside. “I don't understand why all the doors are locked. This can't be right. What if there were a fire? What kind of half-assed system is this? Shouldn't it account for power outages and be designed so that it _doesn't_ trap every living person inside?”

The guard gave a heavy sigh. “I don't know, sir, I've never seen it freeze up so bad. Thing is...”

“What?”

“It's funny, but this is the only building on the street that lost power.”

\- - - - -

When the lights flickered out, Wheeler wasn't unduly alarmed, just irritated.

“Oh, what the...” he muttered, his hands still within the hole cut into the cyborg's chest.

Within seconds the back-up lights filled the basement lab with their faint glow, half as bright as before, though barely enough so he could see what he was doing. He looked around the room, crowded with monitors and shelves full of electronics. The glow from the alien's laser gun was more noticeable with the other lights dimmed. The Department of Paranormal Investigations had claimed it, and the police department had grudgingly delivered it that morning, in a locked case. Wheeler didn't see the need for such extreme caution and had taken it out. Typical of the cops to treat everything associated with Megamind as a potential explosive.

Two settings were clearly marked on it, “-hydrate” and “-stroy”, with the suffix “de-” scribbled on the barrel in black marker. It was pretty primitive looking, actually, and did not have the sleek design that Wheeler would have associated with a laser gun made by an alien life form. It looked like part of the housing had been shaped out of an aluminum can, but he supposed the alien boy had been forced to use whatever was at hand when he constructed it. What really interested Wheeler was the strange, tear-drop shaped power source encased within it. Corbin instructed him to find out as much as he could about it, and the laser gun would receive his attention next, once he finished running a few more tests on the fish's robot suit.

One of the hip joints on it had been broken right in half, and the knee on the other leg scrunched, clearly the result of a severe impact. Replacing them had been a straightforward procedure. Soon he would have control over the whole suit.

“Naresh, go see if you can find out what's going on. I want to get this last wire done.”

“Okay, Joe,” said Naresh in his light Indian accent. He took off his goggles, put down the wire stripper, and went out through the open door. They kept it propped open with a stop most of the time for extra air circulation.

“And figure out what that pounding is,” he called after him. He frowned. It sounded as if the guys down the hall were knocking on a door and calling for help. The fans in the ceiling slowly hummed to a stop, and the lab was in almost total silence. He heard Naresh's footsteps echoing on the linoleum. The pounding stopped and he looked back over his shoulder, listening to the muffled voices down the hall.

Naresh came back, leaning into the room and hanging by one hand from the doorframe. “Stan and Liz are trapped in their lab,” he said. “Can't get their door open. I'm going to get help.” He hurried out again. After a moment he called out, “Hey, I can't get to the stairs. It's locked! My key card doesn't work, either.” The metallic sound of Naresh yanking on the handle echoed off the walls. Wheeler scowled.

“Well, go try the stairs to the garage!” he shouted.

Naresh, grumbling, walked back down the hall.

Wheeler peered again into the cavity of the robot chest and finished splicing the last wire into the coil, wondering how the fish controlled such a massive piece of equipment. A panel at the base of the robot's neck seemed to be the interface, but how did Minion access it? Very little video footage of Minion existed, and Wheeler had closely studied what little there was, trying to see if those tendril things were actually tentacles, but they didn't seem to move.

In any case, surely Minion couldn't touch the panel through the material of the containment unit, whether with fins or tentacles. Neural implants? Perhaps the fish had electrodes in his brain. He could hardly wait to get Minion in his possession so he could find out. Agent Corbin was pretty hot to kill the fish, and no wonder, but Wheeler would have to convince him to at least wait until he could determine exactly how Minion controlled the mechanical body. He would go with the captives when Corbin took them back to Washington.

The darkness made it difficult to finish hooking up the last wire, but he was so close to finishing he completed the task by feel. He exhaled and straightened, pulling off his safety goggles. Footsteps behind him indicated that Naresh had come back.

Wheeler picked up the control panel he had made specifically for the job, heavy wires trailing from it that ran into the robot suit.

“Look at this, Naresh, let's see if we can get this baby to move.” He moved the joystick and the robot body raised its arm straight out to the side. Wheeler's face split into a huge grin.

“There, it works,” he said, tilting his head over his shoulder while keeping an eye on the robot. “I've got control of one arm. Hello, Naresh,” he said in a falsetto voice, shifting the controls to make the arm raise up higher. He only managed a feeble up and down movement, though, and he tried jiggling the joystick to make it wave. “Come over here and gimme five!”

Naresh cleared his throat. “I-I can't. Uh, Joe, I think you should turn around.”

“But I can't move, Naresh, I don't have a brain!” Wheeler trilled.

The robot body moved with a sudden jerk of its shoulders. Wheeler started back in surprise.

Then the thing _came straight at him,_ and its right hand reached out and grabbed a handful of his shirt and lab coat. Shocked, he looked stupidly down at the controls, then at the metal fist tightening its grip on his clothing, then back at the robot that, even headless, radiated menace.

Behind him a dry voice said, “Well, at least the legs appear to be functional.”

Another voice cried, “Aw man, I can't move the other arm at all! Sir, he's messed it up!”

Gasping, heart pounding, Wheeler grabbed at the robot's fist. The thing had such a grip he couldn't turn around, but by looking over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of Naresh, with his hands up in the air.

“Don't worry, Minion, I'm sure we can fix whatever they’ve done. All Right, Joe Scientist, as you see, Minion can control his robot suit when he is within range. I suggest you put down that control panel.”

“Yeah. Carefully,” the first voice snapped.

Shaking, Wheeler looked around, but no table was close enough. After moving the control panel back and forth, uselessly trying to set it down. Megamind snapped, “For evil heaven's sake. Naresh, lie face down on the floor and don’t move.”

Wheeler got his first look at the alien being known as Megamind when he came to his side then, holding a gun in his black-gloved hand, wearing a black Inverness coat, collar turned up, with a red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Minion glared at Wheeler from the baby harness strapped to Megamind's chest. It said “Snugli” on the front. Wheeler handed over the control panel.

Megamind peered at it and the rope of wires that attached it to the suit. Wheeler stared at the blue skin, noticing how it paled and blended into pink along the alien’s cheekbones and ear tips. _What a big head. Imagine the brain inside!_

“Can we cut them?” Minion asked.

Megamind gave a slow shake of his head. “I don't think that would be a good idea. We'll have to take it with us and dismantle it properly, to ensure no damage is done. Or at least no further damage.” He glared at Wheeler, the looked around the lab. “Ah, duct tape. Just the thing. Walk the suit over here with us, Minion.”

All together they proceeded to over to a shelf along the wall, Wheeler walking briskly along on tiptoe so he wouldn’t get dragged.

“Move him over, will you?” Megamind said, holstering the gun and tearing off a strip of tape.

The arm holding Wheeler straightened, forcing him to stumble to the side.

“How do you do that?” he blurted. “How do you make it move?”

The two aliens glanced at each other with sly looks.

“It’s magic,” Megamind said, mouth twitching into a grin, waving a hand through the air and waggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, magic,” Minion said with a toothy grin of his own.

Megamind strapped the control panel to the side of the robot suit with three lengths of duct tape, then lifted Minion out of the harness and placed him on top of the headless shoulders.

“Finally!” Minion cried. “Now that's more like it.” They smiled at each other.

“Test out the legs a little more.”

Minion danced a few steps, Wheeler shuffling along. “They seem all right,” he said doubtfully, looking sideways at Wheeler. “Guess they fixed them okay. They’re not too stiff.”

“Good. We won’t need the trolley then.” Megamind turned, then did a double-take.

“My de-gun!” he shouted, and dashed across the room to pick it up. “I can't believe it! I thought it was locked up at the police station. Look, Minion! Well, this will save us a trip. Ha ha ha!”

Minion laughed with delight and Wheeler's stomach turned over as Minion's arm shot up. “Stop! Stop!” he gurgled. Minion lowered him to the ground again.

“And you were just going to let me walk out of here without it, weren't you, you naughty scientists?” Megamind said, grinning an evil grin and looking down the barrel of the de-gun. “Tsk, tsk.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Still broken. At least you haven't meddled with it yet. Really, such a potentially dangerous object should not be left in the hands of the likes of you government types.”

They tied up Wheeler and Naresh, and left them on the floor. Megamind kicked away the doorstop and the door closed and locked behind them, exacatly like all the others in the building, just as he’d programmed them to do.

“Can we go to the police station anyway, Sir?” Minion asked as they walked down the corridor.

Megamind gave him a puzzled frown. “Why?”

Minion made a fist. “I was gonna go have a few words with Ulrich,” he growled.

Megamind grinned and shook his head. “No. At this point it would be a needless risk.”

The little ichthyoid’s mouth turned down. “Well...can we at least pay that Wachowski a visit? I’ll show him what it’s like to be a punching bag.”

“I don’t think so, Minion. Wachowski’s a mere tool. He will fall when Corbin falls. Your thirst for rev-ahnge is noteworthy, but we must pick our battles.”

As they reached the exit that led to the stairs to the parking garage, Megamind unhooked the new key-o-matic from his belt, as the door had automatically locked behind them after they’d entered, but Minion said, “Ooo, wait, wait! Can I break down the door?”

Megamind gave him an exasperated look. “Settle down, filet mignon. That’s reinforced steel! Your body would get damaged from the impact. Now I have no doubt that you could do it,” he continued as Minion made a little grumble of disappointment, “If our lives depended on it, that door wouldn’t stand a chance! But let’s not take unnecessary risks. All right?” He clapped the faithful ichthyoid on the shoulder.

“Tell you what,” he said, pressing the key-o-matic to the handle. “Anybody gets in our way, you get first crack at ‘em.”

\- - - - - -

Back in their mobile commando unit (aka the new van) Megamind pulled the red scarf up over the lower part of his face so only his eyes were visible and straightened the upturned collar. Then he held a wide brimmed black fedora over his eyes so his features were hidden. Actually wearing the hat was out of the question as it was too small. For any hat to fit him, it would have to be ridiculously huge.

“How's that?” he said.

“A little more to the right, I can still see your head. There, you're all covered, Sir.”

“Is the cape visible?”

Minion looked through the viewfinder on the camera. “Yeah, I can see you from the waist up. That short cape looks good, Sir.”

“Excellent. All right, Minion. Action.”

\- - - - -

Throughout the federal building, every computer screen sprang to life. Every trapped, bored employee in the FBI and DPI offices came away from the windows and darkened break rooms to look at the black-clothed figure that appeared on every screen, holding a black hat in a black-gloved hand in front of his face.

“Who knows what eeeee-vil lurks in the hearts of men,” a low, raspy voice intoned. “The Shadow knows. Heh heh heh heh.”

The hat was lowered to reveal Megamind's glittering eyes.

In his locked office, Corbin leaned on the desk, face hardening.

On the screen Megamind waggled his eyebrows a few times, then exhaled and yanked away the red scarf. “Oh, I don't know about this scarf. So scratchy, and you can't even see my incredibly handsome features. I mean, this cape is all right.” He swiveled back and forth, making the short cape on the coat swish around. “But I'm not quite settled on a look yet. At least I don't have to worry about a secret identity. Hey, Agent Corbin, did you know there used to be this stodgy old radio show about some vigilante called the Shadow? Some comic books, a bunch of novels, I think there's even a movie out there somewhere, but I haven't had time to see it yet. Under the circumstances, it seemed appropriate that I should borrow the persona. Know what I mean?”

He smiled into the camera, then leaned in close. “But don't worry, Agent Corbin,” he said in a stage whisper. “Your secret is safe with me.” He gave the camera a big wink. Chuckling, he backed up again, twirling the hat on one finger before tossing it aside.

“Hey, thanks for getting my de-gun back for me. Saves me the trouble of breaking into the police station to retrieve it. Though if their security is anything like yours, it's not like it would have been _that_ much trouble. All the locks can be accessed from the central unit. I mean, really,” he shook his head. “Look what happened.” He shrugged and made a face. “Live and learn, I always say. Oh, and Minion got his robot suit back, see? Say hi, Minion.”

The camera jiggled, Megamind left the frame, then Minion's face appeared. “Hi,” he said brightly. Megamind's voice floated in from off-screen. “Thanks to those lab rats you've got living in the basement, one of his arms is out of order, but never fear, I'll fix that straight away.” Minion's face disappeared from the screen, the camera shook wildly as he turned it, showing the interior of a van covered with blinking lights, and Megamind appeared again.

“Well, I don't like leaving you poor agents in the lurch, so I've taken the liberty of informing the fire department of your predicament. They should arrive shortly.”

The black eyebrows made deep furrows in the blue brow. “Oohhhhh, I just had a thought. You might not like so much publicity, being such hush-hush government types. Probably a few media folks will notice the commotion and tag along too. Well, darn it all to heck, I should have thought about that before. But then again, publicity is publicity. What's a few more eggs on a few more faces?” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Have fun climbing out the windows. Ciao ciao all!”

Megamind smiled, waggled his fingers at the screen, and then made a cutting motion with one hand. The screens went dark.

\- - - - - -

Later that evening, the warden watched the news, chin propped on one hand. On the screen, figures climbed out windows and down ladders, assisted by firefighters. Melanie curled up in the other easy chair, reading Advance Cytology.

“Guess they’re alive and well, Dad,” she said without looking up.

“Looks like,” Parker sighed, and took a sip from his Scotch on the rocks.

Director Lewis appeared on the screen, looking very irate. Offscreen a reported asked, “Can you explain how Megamind was able to get by your security so easily?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘easily’,” Lewis said. “But this is clearly a wake-up call. We plan a complete overhaul of our system.”

“What sort of danger does this pose to the public, if Megamind can walk into any building he chooses? What is the government going to do about it?”

Lewis cleared his throat. “We are doing everything we can to track down this clearly dangerous individual. But I don’t think...”

“Is it true you decided to evacuate the building, rather than wait for power to be restored, because you believed Megamind had planted explosives, or was going to pump poisonous gas into the vents?”

Lewis blinked and shoved his glasses up his nose. “What? No! It’s just a precaution. That’s an unsubstantiated rumor.”

Melanie highlighted a few lines in the text book. “Wow. Nice. Still want him in the family, Dad?”

Parker glanced at her. “He wouldn’t send poison into the vents, Melanie. Blue would never do anything like that.” Sighing he raised the glass again. “Helium, maybe, but not poison,” he muttered, and drank the rest of the Scotch. “I’m going to bed.”

As he climbed the stairs, he was once again haunted by the nagging feeling that he was overlooking something. Or someone.

__

 

 

 

 


	25. The Sixth Uncle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict." -Lemony Snicket, "The Grim Grotto"

Harry Chambers stood in line at the post office, waiting to mail his daughter her wedding gift. She had eloped two months ago. The letter she'd written him had been full of enthusiasm, begging him to understand, and declaring that Duncan was the love of her life.

Harry's ex-wife had called him while he was still in prison to voice her disappointment.

“She says she's not pregnant. I don't believe it,” she'd grumbled. “That useless, no account...Says he's a poet. Sits around staring at trees all day or some damn thing.”I'll bet she'll end up supporting _him!”_

He went to stand behind a middle-aged woman with two fidgeting children and fished out the photo that Brianna had sent him of her and her new husband. They both wore big smiles and Harry thought the guy had a kind face. He felt sad that she hadn't had a regular wedding. Couldn't she have waited until he was out? She'd known when his parole was going to start.

Sighing, he tucked the photo back into his pocket and shifted the package of bath towels under his other arm as the line began to move forward. After this he would go spend some time at the track. If Brianna had married a nice man, surely that was good luck, and he held onto that thought. He had to work up the positive vibes to increase his chances. He dug around in another jacket pocket for the racing form to study the numbers. Positive vibes and the right calculations, he just had to find the right combination to help him win. After a few moments he tucked it back into his jacket.

Wiping his watery eyes with a handkerchief, he took another step forward and looked up into a poster of Megamind and Minion tacked to the wall.

WANTED, the headline said, and, underneath that, $200,000 REWARD.

He gaped at it, frozen, then forced his eyes away and stared hard at the backs of the people in front of him, but his heart thudded heavily in his chest. The children giggled and swung around on the posts that marked the aisle while their mother scolded them.

Two hundred thousand _dollars._

His scalp prickled with sweat with all those zeros staring at him. He had embezzled a lot of cash in his life, but it had all been spread out over about twenty-two years or so. He'd never seen that much money in one place at one time. _Ever._

Shock at that impossible amount made his palms sweaty. He shifted the package under his other arm and wiped his free hand on his pants. He'd had no idea that they were so...so _wanted._

Couldn't this stupid line move faster?!

It was with considerable relief that he got the package delivered and he marched out of the post office without looking at the poster again, but that gigantic number followed him out the door.

Walking down the sidewalk to the bus stop, his brain clicked and began working again, buzzing with possibility.

The full enormity of hiding the most wanted fugitives of Metro City hit him like a sack of bricks.

Of course, he would never...he just _couldn't..._

Pretty Paulie was running in the fourth race that afternoon, at 43 to 1 odds. Next weekend, another long shot, Light As Air, was running, currently at 57 to 1.

Imagine what he could do with that lump of cash!

With winnings like that, he could move out of that roach motel, buy his own car so he wouldn't have to take the bus anymore, get some decent clothes that hadn't come from Big Savers or the Salvation Army, clothes that nobody had ever worn even once...

He ran both his hands across the back of his neck, mouth dry. Somehow he reached the bus stop without tripping over his own feet and stood at the curb, staring down the street.

A grubby white man who had been sitting on a low concrete wall sidled over to him but he ignored him. If he didn't make eye contact, the panhandler would be less likely to ask him for spare change.

“That you, Harry?” the man said, tilting his head, and Harry recognized Vic Spinelli, one of the uncles.

“Oh! Hey, Vic,” he said, forcing a smile. _Why now, why now, why now?_ he thought miserably, feeling like an anchor had dropped into his stomach.

“Good to see you,” Vic said, grinning with yellow teeth. “How ya been? Been out long?”

“No, not too long,” replied Harry, looking around for the damn bus again. Hopefully Vic wasn't taking the same bus.

Vic had only gotten into Blue's uncles by bribery. He'd been kicked out by another gang for being a stoolie. Constantly ducking and hiding from his former buddies, he began slinking around after Blue and Minion, because any disturbance around them tended to draw the protective presence of the uncles, thereby bringing a small measure of protection for Vic. And he knew Blue was a sucker for candy, so he'd wormed his way into the group by slipping the kid a steady supply of sweets.

None of the uncles liked him much but driving him away took a time-sucking amount of energy that none of them were willing to expend right then. Vic could take an enormous amount of abuse and come back the next day, slinking and wheedling and begging for a place in the group. The amount of force necessary to drive him off for good might have upset the kids too much, so the other uncles, very reluctantly, allowed him to stay. And he was an okay guardian, so long as the others were around to keep an eye on him. He wasn't dangerous, exactly, just a nuisance. The other uncles never would have allowed him in if he really posed any sort of threat to Blue or Minion, but he was careless and couldn't keep from running his mouth off.

Of course, Vic's skulking and eavesdropping sometimes proved advantageous to the uncles as well, so his continued presence in the group depended heavily on this skill as, over time, even Blue and Minion came to look on him with distrust and pity.

Vic launched straight into a rant about how not only the cops but the feds themselves kept coming around and pestering him with questions about the kid.

“I been tellin' 'em, I haven't seen him, not hide nor hair, not that he's got much of that,” he giggled, “but my mom is getting' mad at me, like it's my fault these guys keep bangin' on the door.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “But man, you see those wanted posters at the post office? I was just in there the other day, I've got my own PO box. Got some magazines I don't want comin' to the house, know what I mean?” He winked broadly and laughed, nudging Harry on the arm with his elbow. Harry nodded and pressed his lips together, grinning in embarrassment.

Vic huffed out a long breath. “Think about what you could do with that cash! I mean, I would never, ever, say nothing, right?” He waved his hands in the air and shook his head. “Not like I've seen him anyway. But man, those feds were the worst. Damn 'em.” He frowned and muttered something under his breath.

“So what are you up to these days?” Harry said, struggling to remember if Vic had any kind of job, or did anything other than try to wriggle out of shoplifting charges.

Vic glanced at him sideways, “Why? Who wants to know?” he said suspiciously.

“I...uh...”

Vic burst out laughing. “I'm just messin' with ya! Geez, man, chill out. Not doing too much. Went to the movies yesterday, told mom I'm looking for a job just to get her out of my hair. I'm looking at my options, got some stuff lined up, but nothing's come through yet,” he said vaguely. “So where you headed?”

Harry peered down the street, willing the bus to come and put him out of his misery. “Oh, you know, the track. Got some good tips.”

“Gonna hit the big time today, I'll bet!” Vic said jovially, nudging him again. Harry took half a step to the side to get out of elbow range.

The bus swung into view around the corner and he took a deep breath of relief. “I think that's my bus. Nice to see you again, Vic. Take care of yourself, now.” He stuck out his hand and Vic shook it with a goofy grin.

“Hey, that's my bus too. But hey, you look busy. Don't let me keep you! See you around, man.” He slapped Harry's shoulder and wandered over to the line loosely forming by the bus stop sign. Harry gritted his teeth and got in line too.

Vic sat at the back. Harry took a place near the front on the hard plastic seat with worn covers.

Harry looked out the window while his thoughts chased each other around like rabid squirrels and became even more treacherous.

Maybe it really would be better off if those boys were returned to the warden. Surely Mister Parker would never turn them over to the ones who had treated them so cruelly, no matter what sort of warrants they came up with. He knew Parker had a good lawyer, she could protect them, couldn't she? Build a wall of legalese around them so tight that no one could get at them.

And if so many were hot on their trail, especially with a reward like that, wouldn't someone get the reward anyway? Why shouldn't it be Harry?

He pulled both hands down over his face, blinking hard.

How could he even think about it? Megamind slipped out every night with Minion strapped to him, and always came back laden with food, and bags of mysterious gadgets that he'd stow away in a corner. The corner cabinet was so full of Pop Tarts you could hardly get it closed.

And just the other day Harry found four hundred dollars stuffed in his wallet that definitely hadn't been there before, but when he tried to give it back, Megamind waved him off.

“You saved our lives, Uncle Harry. I won't forget it.” He'd grinned and tapped the side of his big blue head. “I couldn't if I tried!”

Megamind had once again become his usual hyperactive self. Both he and Minion healed so well that Harry actually had trouble remembering how messed up they'd been when he first found them lying on his couch. Other than the thin white lines that marked his forearm, Megamind appeared to be unscathed.

There was no evidence that they'd been beaten. Now Harry wished that he'd taken some pictures of their injuries, but he'd had little opportunity to buy a camera, even if he'd thought of it. The buses didn't run on Sunday, he'd had to go in to work on Monday, and before the week was out, both of them had already healed.

What if Harry turned them in, and Parker didn't believe them about the beating and handed them straight over to the ones who'd roughed them up?

Harry felt so miserable he almost got off the bus. If he got off at Tyndale Avenue he could catch another one that would take him home.

Just in time he remembered that weasel Vic.

By casually turning his head he could see him out of the corner of his eye, still sitting in the back. He couldn't remember if Vic had said where he was going. Harry didn't want him to wonder why he hadn't gone to the track like he'd said.

Harry sighed. He'd better go through with his original plan, though he didn't feel much like betting anymore.

When the bus stopped at Winchester Downs he got off quickly, and walked about half the way to the grandstand before stealing a glance behind him. To his relief, he could still see Vic sitting in the back as the bus pulled away. He continued on to the race track.

As he walked away, he didn't see the bus stop again at the corner and Vic step off and follow him.

\- - - - -

Vic sidled through the crowd at the track, being his usual invisible self. It was easy. People were forever ignoring him or, having once seen him, did their best to forget he existed. But that was okay, it didn't do to bring attention to yourself. He got along very well, not existing. You could hear and see a lot that way.

Right away he could tell something was funny. Harry hadn't wanted to see him, and that was okay too, nobody really liked seeing him, but his alarm was more than just discomfort at running into an old pal he didn't want to talk to. He had been afraid, and he could hardly meet Vic's eyes. What was Harry feeling so guilty about?

Now, Vic, being a practiced liar, could look any cop or his own mother straight in the eye without flinching, but a lot of people couldn't. Harry always was pretty easy to read.

So he found a little nook out of the wind, watched the horses racing by for a couple of hours, watched Harry, who stood at the rail. Man, he'd never seen Harry so excited before, his droopy hound dog face lit up with intensity. Harry shouted and cheered the horses on, then he'd double over and groan when the results showed up on the board.

Then Vic went and got a soda, went to the john, came back, had a little panic attack when he couldn't see Harry anywhere, then caught sight of him heading for the exit, shoulders slumped. He ambled out after him.

It was touch and go on the last bus as the crowd thinned, but Vic hid behind some guy lugging a tuba case and successfully avoided notice.

\- - - - -

“Ta da!” Megamind sang, waving his arms at Minion with a flourish. Minion, so tall now that the top of his containment unit almost scraped the ceiling, waved his fins and blushed. The floorboards creaked under the weight.

“Well, look at that,” Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face. “You got your robot suit back!” He did not wonder how they had gotten it back. He was getting really good at shutting down that part of his mind that asked inconvenient questions.

“This calls for a celebration,” said Megamind. He leaped over to the wobbly kitchen table and waved his arm at the Chinese takeout containers. “Behold, a feast!”

Harry's mouth watered in spite of himself. He'd smelled the delicious food out in the hallway. “Well, that's just fine,” he said, grinning. “Guess you boys are back in business, huh?”

“You could say that. And what's more, I have an announcement to make.” Megamind's grin became strained. “We've found a new lair.” He straightened his shoulders and crossed his arms. “It's quite close by, actually, though of course I am not at liberty to tell you where, you understand.” He cleared his throat self-consciously.

“Oh.”

Megamind shifted his feet. “Um. Yes. Because I promised we would only stay at your place for a little while and I think we've stretched the definition of 'a few days' to its limit.”

“Oh,” Harry said again, feeling awkward. He had gotten used to having them around. Minion smiled bravely but his spines drooped. Megamind crossed his arms and looked out the window.

“It's a fine place, Uncle Harry...”

“Once we get the pigeon poop scraped out,” Minion muttered.

Megamind shot him a glare. “It's not that bad.” He sniffed and examined his nails. “And what do you mean by 'we'?”

“Aw, come on, Sir, you said you'd...”

Laughing, Megamind stuck his fingers in his ears. “I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala!”

A pounding on the floor under their feet indicated that the downstairs neighbor was banging on the ceiling with a broom handle.

“Shhhhhh! Shh!” said Harry, grimacing and waving his hands. Simultaneously, they clapped their hands over their mouths. They looked at each other for a moment, their eyes bright with glee, then lowered their hands.

“Let's eat,” Megamind said. “Help yourself, Uncle Harry.”

“Uh, listen, guys, you can still drop by anytime you want. In fact, I'd like it if you stayed.” _I am not like Vic,_ Harry thought, his lips tightening in determination. _Looking for an angle, a scheme, an advantage._ He would prove it. He would do the right thing.

“Really? Do you mean it?” Minion said.

Megamind brightened, but he also looked hesitant. “I don't...know...” he said. “We may have overstayed our welcome. Are you sure?” He glanced at Minion. The old pigeon coop was quite large and had proved adequate for planning their operation against the federal building. It was more spacious than the shed they'd first bunked in, but he really hadn't been looking forward to sleeping there.

Harry assured them both that he would love it if they stayed. He didn't tell them he'd run into Vic Spinelli, since he knew they were not all that friendly with that particular uncle.

\- - - - - -

Night had fallen, and the shadows were deep. Vic stood in a doorway and lit a cigarette and watched Harry go into a slipshod boarding house with crumbling steps. A minute later, a light came on in one of the upper windows.

Hmmm. That one had shown the blue flickering light of a TV screen. Had he left the TV on all day while he was gone?

Something to think about.

Vic would never, ever, _ever_ go around telling stories. It pained him when people accused him of blabbing. It was just that, sometimes in a pinch, the right words in the right ear could save him a world of hurt, especially during those little misunderstandings when he was innocently minding his own business and just happened to pick up a few unregarded items that no one would miss anyway. Strange how mad people got when it was clearly their own fault if they left doors and windows unlocked, and valuable stuff just lying around.

Vic collected little bits and pieces of intel the way some guys wandered around with metal detectors, looking to see what they could dig up. Sometimes they dug up a real treasure.

He liked that word, intel. Sounded so military, like he could be a spy, a real espionage agent.

  
Or, as the blue kid might have said, “es- _pye_ -oh-nadge.”

For a second he thought he saw a large shoulder outlined against a curtain and frowned. Harry wasn't _that_ tall, was he? But it was only for a second, then the shadow was gone as whoever it was moved deeper into the room.

It wasn't much, really, but Vic filed away it as another thing to think about. He had another cigarette, mulled things over for a while, then stomped out the stub and made his way home.

\- - - - - -

It was while he was clearing out some old files that Brad came across the recordings. For a moment he couldn't place them, since Corbin hadn't given him any surveillance duties lately, but then he remembered that he had never turned off the tracking system.

What with Megamind tracking _them_ down at Agent Corbin's place he'd completely forgotten about it.

But there it was, all this time it had been faithfully sending out its little signal, and recording everything.

Out of curiosity he opened the program and listened to the most recent recording.

“This is where we like to set up camp when spring comes, man,” an eager voice whispered, coming out of the speakers. “Gets a lot of cross wind, so's we don't get the smell from the dump, and we get a nice view, and the roof here is still pretty solid, man. When you come to Earth, I'll show you where...”

A more distant, wearier voice said, “Curly?”

There was a scratchy noise, as if the device had been dunked under a covering, and the first voice said, “Yeah, Reg?”

“Can you tell your little blue friends it's time for bed?”

“Uhhhhh, I don't know what you're talkin' about, man. Don't know about you, man, that's crazy talk.” The voice chuckled nervously.

Brad listened to muffled sounds of what might have been a body turning over in a pile of newspapers. There was silence for a while, then the voice came back, Curly presumably, in an even quieter whisper. “That's all for now, blue men. And blue women, too, and your kids. Oh, and when you come to Earth, just let me know, I'll let the ambassador know. Or I'll try to, anyway. He is a nice kid, I got to shake his hand once, remember? But hard to get a hold of, you know? I gotta go. Signing off from planet Earth.”

A few more rustling sounds, then silence. Brad leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pulling on his lip thoughtfully.

Man, he ought to let Corbin know right away. It sounded like some homeless dude had pocketed the tracking device, but he talked like he knew Megamind. Unless he was completely off his rocker, but if Corbin somehow found out that Brad knew about this and hadn't told him, well, Brad didn't like to think of his chances for survival.

This Curly guy would be easy to track down. Brad picked up the phone and dialed.

\- - - - - -

Megamind leaned back so far in the kitchen chair he was in danger of falling over. With his fingers steepled in front of him, he kept one foot on the table and idly adjusted his position as needed to maintain balance.

A small container of half-eaten frozen yogurt quietly melted on the table. Despite Minion's assurances, it didn't taste all that much like real ice cream to _him,_ and certainly not like real chocolate.

Perhaps later he would get some Rocky Road, after the unpleasant business of the evening was completed. Yes, that would give him a bit of incentive.

His eyes gleamed in the glow of the television, the only light in the apartment.

Little reflections showed on Minion's bowl where he stood with his back to the wall. With the kitchen cleaned and the dishes put away, he had nothing more to do except watch TV and wait. He felt no need to pace, and his robot body never tired so he didn't need to sit down either. Harry snored on the mustard yellow couch, a copy of the _Metro City Times_ sports page lying on his chest.

“Have you decided, Sir?” Minion said quietly.

Megamind gave a long sigh through his nose and lowered his hands, resting one arm on the table and letting the chair settle onto the floor.

He pressed his lips together. He was not looking forward to the next part of his plan, which would necessitate his coming into contact with people he did not want to associate with, but if they wanted to survive, he had no choice.

The hard part was deciding who to contact first, as both options were disagreeable. One was more public, and therefore more exposed, more dangerous. The other somewhat safer, but less palatable.

Walking over to the corner where his possessions lay in a loose pile, he retrieved the de-gun in its holster and buckled it around his waist. He picked up the sonic pest dispeller from the floor to make sure it was still working. One of these devices sat in each corner of the room. For perhaps the first time in its existence, the apartment was pest-free. The black Inverness coat lay across the back of a chair and he swept it on, the short cape hanging from its shoulders flaring out briefly.

Adjusting the high collar he padded over to Harry's blue denim jacket where it lay over the back of the couch and slipped the wallet out. As expected, there were only a couple of one dollar bills left. How in the world did Harry even make it through the day, he wondered, as he reached for his own pocket.

“Sir,” Minion whispered as he pulled out a roll of cash and began counting out bills, “We need some money ourselves.”

Megamind glanced at him, then stuck five hundred dollars into the almost empty wallet and tucked it back into the jacket. “He is our benefactor, Minion.”

The big robot feet shuffled unhappily. “I know. It's just... don't give it _all_ away.”

Megamind raised an eyebrow and held up the thick roll of cash. “Don't worry. Still plenty here. More than enough to cover street value. And I plan to bargain hard.” He clapped Minion on the arm. “Let's go, my scaly friend.”

Harry gave a snort and rolled over. The newspaper drifted to the floor of the empty apartment.

 

 


	26. Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Trust me. I'm a genius." -Artemis Fowl, by Eion Colfer

The western edge of Gafford Park was by a chunk of woodland next to a stretch of abandoned lots overgrown with weeds. During the day dog walkers and ambitious joggers sometimes used the paths, and the grass received regular mowings by park maintenance workers, but at night it became a hangout for a particular group of junkies.

They were just settling in under the footbridge for a good smoke when Minion appeared in their midst.

Survival instincts came to the fore and they scattered like a flock of underfed pigeons, except for the one who slipped on some mud and was snagged by Minion.

He wheeled the struggling man around as Megamind stepped forward. “How about him, Sir?”

Megamind chuckled. “Yes, I suppose this one will do.” He never forgot a face, and had seen this one furtively passing packets back and forth on the streets on a few occasions.

The junkie's blood-shot eyes widened. “Don't snort me!” he wailed.

“Calm yourself, drug dealer,” Megamind said. “I am here on business.”

Clearly he needed to be shown the money, Megamind thought, and pulled out the wad of cash. At the sight of the money, the man ceased his frantic struggles, looking from one alien face to the other, and then to the money, which had captured his undivided attention.

“Now if you...” Megamind paused as the man's words came back to him. “Did you say 'snort'?”

The man's eyes darted around uncertainly. “Yeah, because Timbo, you put him in a cube once, and he saw you get these other people into cubes, and you crushed 'em, and did lines with 'em, man, like a real nasty cocaine binge. Just like soylent green.”

Frowning, Megamind looked at Minion, who shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“What is soylent green?” he asked, hoping that an explanation for the unfamiliar term would shed some light on the bizarre announcement.

The man's forehead wrinkled. “It's _people,_ man.”

It was no help at all. People had way too much time on their hands. Just when he thought he'd heard them all, some new rumor would appear that made him feel as if he'd stepped off the end of a sidewalk only to discover that the curb was twenty feet high.

He shook his head. “Look, drug-addicted person, this...” he drew the de-gun. The man tried to duck under Minion's arms. “...is a dehydration gun.” He decided it was best not to mention the de-stroy setting. “I don't put people into cubes. When I fire on a person or an object within the acceptable mass parameters, all of the moisture contained within...”

His voice trailed off. The man's face showed nothing but bewilderment.

He altered course. “If this Timbo person were a cube, how could he have seen me crushing other cubes into powder and snorting them?” he said, and shuddered. “Besides, the cubes are practically indestructible.” He walked out from under the foot bridge and looked around. Minion came along, pulling the man with him.

Megamind aimed at a park bench and shot it. Walking over to it he picked up the cube and, placing it on a flat stone from the crumbling path, stomped on it with his heel a few times. He picked it up and handed it to the man. “See?” he said. “Not a mark on it. Even if Minion jumped up and down on it, it wouldn't get damaged.”

The man turned the cube over and over in his hands, and squeezed it with a grunt. “Huh.” The corners of his mouth tilted into a grin. “Good old Timbo,” he chuckled. But even the wonders of the cube paled next to the chunk of cash Megamind held, and the man kept looking at it hopefully.

“So what do I call you? I can't keep calling you 'drug dealer,'” he said, holstering the de-gun.

“Iggy,” he said, staring at the money roll.

“If Minion lets go, you won't run off?”

Iggy gave a quick shake of the head. At this point they would have had to drive him away with whips.

“So how much for a kilo of your finest cocaine?”

That broke the spell. Iggy stopped rubbing his arms and gaped at him. He darted forward, grabbed Megamind's elbow, and hurried him back under the bridge. Megamind was too surprised to protest. Iggy gestured wildly for Minion to come in, though the puzzled henchfish was already following after them. He had been half ready to crack him over the head when he grabbed Sir's arm.

“Are you crazy? I don't have that much on me,” he whispered, craning his neck around as if expecting an attack from all sides. _“Nobody_ does. Unless you're a top dog.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you settin' up? Because Bruce Otto is gonna have something to say about it if you try to set up your own business around here.”

“I am not setting up anything,” Megamind said. “I merely wish to make a one-time purchase.”

Iggy looked doubtful. “Well, I still don't have _that_ much,” he said, shaking his head. “I could get it, but I need to go to Otto. And he's going to want to talk to you. He can be hard to find, though. Like, _really_ hard.” He coughed into his fist and gave a little waggle with his other hand.

Either Iggy was showing the first signs of Parkinson's disease, or he was trolling for a tip. Megamind flicked off a twenty-dollar bill from the wad and held it out. It disappeared with remarkable speed into Iggy's pocket.

Megamind sighed. “Where and when?”

“You know Lucky Jack's on 125th? Be there in an hour.”

“And how do I know there won’t be a squadron of cops sitting there, waiting to pounce?” Megamind asked, eyes narrowing.

Iggy flapped his hand dismissively. “Are you kidding? Bruce Otto’s not exactly simpatico with the cops. They’d haul him in. Same with me. Hey, uh...” he said with a hopeful grin, holding up the cube, “Can I keep the bench?”

“Be my guest,” Megamind said with a smirk. “Just add water when you get it home.”

\- - - - - - - -

“I'm still not sure about this, Sir,” Minion said as he eased his bulk behind the wheel of the station wagon and shut the door. “We found Corbin's computer guy. Isn't that good enough?”

Megamind gave him an exasperated look. “It's all part of my two-pronged attack. Operation: Frame Agent Corbin Like We Framed Justin Henkler by Planting False Evidence. It's an ancient and time-honored tradition, and will provide that extra _pow_ factor!” Megamind cried, smacking his fist into his hand. “We can't have a two-pronged attack with only one prong. How ridiculous is that?”

“Well, it just seems like Operation: Frame Agent Corbin is a little too...”

Megamind raised his index finger. “That's Operation: Frame Agent Corbin Like We Framed Justin Henkler by Planting False Evidence, Minion.”

“Er...Operation...Frame...er...can we shorten it, Sir?”

“Well, I suppose so,” said Megamind. “But Operation: FACLWFJHPFE doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.”

Minion huffed out a sigh. “Why not just 'the Operation'?”

“Because that's what the _last_ one was called! And a very disappointing name it was, too. No style to it,” Megamind said, waving his hands in the air and letting them fall to his lap again. “I am in charge of naming all operations, plans, and ee-vil schemes from now on.”

\- - - - - - - -

Megamind spent a half hour casing the area around Happy Jack's before he was satisfied that there really weren't any cops in the vicinity. It was possible that someone else inside the bar would try to cash in on the reward being offered for him even if Bruce Otto wouldn't, so he made sure to locate all the exits. There were two good ones, the back door and the window of the restroom, which was big enough for Minion to get through even if they had to break it down.

He stepped over the threshold of the bar, and froze.

The warden sat at the bar, beer mug half way to his lips, staring at him.

Megamind's back bumped into Minion's torso as he backpedaled.

No, not the warden, he realized, heart thudding. The warden's son, Dan Parker. That wastrel. He even had a mustache.

Megamind made a show of adjusting his black trench coat. He had better night vision than Earth humans (like a damn cat, some of the prisoners said) but it had still taken a moment to adjust to the gloom and bad lighting. Glancing at Minion, he could see that the ichthyoid was equally shocked, as his mouth was hanging open, but then he clamped his teeth together and gave Megamind a little nod to show that he had recovered from his surprise.

Dan was only twenty-five but his heavy abuse of drugs had aged him so he looked almost as old as his father, and not aged well, either. His eyes were sunken and dark and his cheeks sagged, giving him a jowly look. Greasy dark hair hung in strands over his forehead. He slowly put the mug on the stained bar and stared at them, the skin around his eyes tightening.

Megamind sternly reminded himself that he was no longer six years old. He lifted his chin, gave Dan a cold look, and walked into the room.

Iggy hovered by a round wooden table halfway down the room, next to a broad-shouldered man with his head sunk into his chest as if his neck had given up. Another man the size of a small mountain slowly pushed his chair back and stood up in size twenty Oxfords. His crew cut brushed against the florescent lights.

It was not crowded. A few people sat on stools along the bar and a few more sat around in booths and tables in the long room, all of them staring. The bartender put put down the glass she was polishing and put one hand on the bar and the other on her hip, and glared at them. A baseball game played on the television. The people at the bar didn't turn around as they passed, but their heads swiveled to keep an eye on them.

Iggy met him halfway. “There's Otto,” he said, nodding back toward the sitting man. “I just told him you wanted to work for him. Hey, believe me, it's better this way,” he said, as Megamind scowled at him. “Otherwise he wouldn't meet with you at all.” He began to pat Megamind's shoulder, thought better of it, and scuttled out the door.

Megamind suppressed a sigh and walked over to the table. Otto lifted his head and his eyes shifted away from the game on the TV to glare at him.

“I have a business proposition, Mister Otto,” said Megamind, deciding that a little mutual respect could be established.

“I don't like freaks. Tell you that right now,” Otto rumbled. The hand that rested on the table had a tattoo of a snarling wolf's head on it, and it twitched. A liver spot gave the wolf an eyepatch. “And I got enough deadbeats on the payroll.”

So much for respect. “May I?” Megamind gestured at one of the chairs. Otto simply continued to glare at him. The mountainous bodyguard shifted his jaw.

Megamind pulled the chair out and sat down, leaning his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers in front of him. Minion stood at his shoulder. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I don't want to work for you, I merely wish to buy some of your product. I was informed that you arrange these bulk purchases?”

Otto took a drink from a shot glass and slammed it back down on the ring-marked wood. “I got this purple bastard already hornin' in on my turf. What do you think of that? Calls himself Psycho Delic.”

Megamind wondered if Otto had even heard him. “I know of this...purple man, but he is no friend of mine, I assure you.”

There was a loud cheer from the television, and Otto transferred his hostility towards the screen. “Look at that. Another run,” he grumbled. “Put Ogilvie on the mound, you bums! Tigers are gonna lose.” He poured another shot, downed it, then glared at Megamind again.

“So you don't know him. You expect me to believe that?” Otto's hackles were almost visible.

“I see him sometimes at the freak convention,” Megamind said.

Even in the half light of the bar he could see Otto's face darken. “You think you're hot shit because you got away from the feds? I don't buy that for a second.” He sneered as he looked Megamind up and down, or at least that part of him that was visible over the table. “Scrawny runt like you? I seen Corbin, there ain't no way a toothpick like you could beat up a guy like that. Take a hike, narc.”

Megamind burst out laughing out of pure shock. “Hahahaha! A _narc?_ Seriously? You think...” He shook his head. “Yes, Mister Otto, my escape from federal custody was all an elaborate ruse to entrap you.”

Otto glowered and poured another shot. “I don't like smart-asses, neither. Just get the hell out before I have Ralph throw you out.”

Mount Thug cracked his knuckles. Megamind heard several slightly louder creaks as Minion bunched his fists. “I'd like to see him try,” the henchfish growled.

“Easy now,” Megamind said, putting his hand up to Minion's chest. A fight now would wreck everything. Though Ralph had several inches on Minion, he had no doubt that his henchfish could throw this bodyguard through the window, but it would put a serious cramp in the deal. “Now, about my escape. Even an experienced fighter like Corbin can be taken by surprise. I hit him with something he didn't expect.”

Otto cocked his head. “Oh yeah? What?”

Megamind smiled and tapped the side of his blue head. “This. I'll bet you could hear the collision all across town.”

Otto's shoulders began to shake and a wheeze came out of his mouth. Megamind stiffened in alarm, wondering if he were having an asthma attack, but no, the man was laughing, a great long wheeze broken by little gasps. Megamind watched his face with interest. The corners of the man’s mouth didn't turn up _at all._ If anything, they seemed to go down even farther.

“Yeah, I'll bet,” Otto said, and took a drink straight from the whiskey bottle. He gave a last, shortened wheeze. “Giant noggin like that.”

Megamind felt his smile become strained, but he held it in place. _At least he's amused. Though I would rather he weren't amused at my expense._ “Let me give you a little piece of information, for free. _I'm_ not working for the feds, but Psycho Delic is.”

Otto looked sharply at him. He'd suspected that Psycho Delic was being handled, but he just hadn't figured out by whom. He thought it was some other drug lord in another city attempting to squeeze Otto out of business.

Megamind rested his elbows on the table again. “In fact, if my...party goes as planned, this thorn in your side would most likely be removed.” He didn't have anything personal against Psycho Delic, but he was fairly certain that when Corbin went down, his lackeys would be taken down too.

Otto leaned back in his chair, straightening his arms against the table. His fingers tapped against the edge a few times, the wolf tattoo trembling. “How you gonna do that? What's my guarantee?”

“Nothing is for certain in this world,” Megamind said, smiling. He interlocked his fingers. “And you know I can't go into details. After all, what's to stop you from running your mouth off to the feds yourself, if you get taken in?”

Otto scoffed. “They don't got nothing on me. What's your little party going to do for me?”

“Isn't it obvious? You get a profit from this simple business transaction, and Psycho Delic goes away. All without you having to lift a finger. The feds have been a thorn in my side as well.” Technically speaking, he didn't need Otto's product in particular. Any highly illegal substance would do, but he was growing impatient to put his plan into action and didn't want to go through all the bother of tracking down yet another 'top dog' who would probably be equally unpleasant. He didn't know any drug dealers personally, because his uncles had steered him clear of them.

Otto nodded. “Okay, frea...kid. We can deal.”

\- - - - - - -

As Psycho Delic strolled down the sidewalk he tugged the black ascot up a little higher to make sure the glowing lights on the inhibitor collar were hidden.

A fine mist drizzled out of the sky, making everything damp. There wasn't a breeze, so every overflowing garbage can and gutter perfumed the night. But he wasn't due at his cell until eleven o'clock and he was damned if he was going back early.

Besides, he'd found one of his regular girls, and the scotch, oxycontin, and sheep wormer were hitting his system just right, so for a short while all was right with the world.

Crystal or Jasmine or whatever her name was kept up a stream of chatter that he normally would have busted her for, but he was feeling unexpectedly mellow at the moment, almost cheerful. He might even pay her afterwards.

He rubbed his forehead. _Maybe a little less scotch next time._

“...never really came back after that last album, and she's like, what, eighty years old or something, I bet she's got one of them rejuvenation chambers,” said Crystal or possibly Jasmine, high heels clicking rapidly by his side as she hurried to keep up with his long stride. “I don't know why she bothers, it's not like she's had any hits since the seventies, just 'cause she got cancer or something, I'll bet people feel sorry for her...”

He'd lost track of which has-been celebrity she was talking about. At least he didn't need to hold up his end of the conversation. Crystal and/or Jasmine talked enough for three. As they turned the corner and he saw the row of bars, he looked down at her, mellow mood evaporating. “I thought your place was just around the corner.”

“I had to move, weren't you listening? Just down the street,” she said with an anxious smile. “Almost there.”

Still frowning he walked a little faster.

A group of damp punks crowded together under an awning, passing a bottle back and forth.

“Hey, Crystal!” one of them bawled after them. “You gonna do me next?”

They howled with laughter. Crystal threw them a dirty look over her shoulder and jabbed her middle finger at them, but she maintained her death grip on Psycho Delic's elbow. No way would she risk losing him to some other girl.

None of the men were high enough or stupid enough to heckle Psycho Delic.

Crystal grumbled under her breath, then resumed her chatter about other celebrity has-beens. “Madonna is soooo much better...We can take this way,” she said brightly, pointing a red-painted fingernail at an alley. He shrugged and let her tug him along.

Iggy loomed out of the shadows so quick that Psycho Delic almost pasted him. Iggy yelped, throwing his arms up in front of his face and backing away from the smoke that boiled off Psycho Delic's fingers.

“What do you want?” Psycho Delic snapped, lowering his hand.

“Where you been, man? I left like twenty messages!” he cried. “I found 'em.”

“I'm busy,” Psycho Delic said and started walking again.

Iggy flapped his arms in exasperation. “The blue geek and the robot! They're in Lucky Jack's bar!”

Psycho Delic stopped short and looked back at him in surprise. He walked back to the end of the alley, Crystal glued to his elbow. Stepping into the mouth of the alley he looked at the yellow and green neon sign of the four leaf clover hanging over the bar.

“You sure?” he said, squinting. The windows were small and tinted, and it was impossible to see inside. He let the red light grow in his eyes as he looked at Iggy. “There's a penalty if you're wasting my time.”

“Not like I could get 'em mixed up with anyone else. I'm telling you, it's them. And I'm the one who got them to go there,” he added, hoping that all his hard work would pay off with an additional reward.

“Well, I'll be damned,” Psycho Delic muttered, heart racing with anticipation, and began to dig in his pocket for the comm, but then he hesitated and a smile twisted his lips into a grin. He had a better plan.

He held Crystal's chin in his hand and tilted her head up. “Change of plan, sweetheart,” he said. “Maybe another time.”

“What? You're leaving?” she cried, but he pulled his arm out of her grip and walked toward Iggy, who looked at him with dog-like anticipation.

“Nice job, Iggy,” he said, and sent a streamer of smoke into his mouth. Iggy closed his eyes and inhaled.

Crystal grabbed the sleeve of his coat. “But what about me? You can't...” She swallowed nervously at the scowl on Pyscho Delic's face but so great was her need that she didn't let go.

“I said another time,” he said coldly. Behind him, Iggy's eyes were glazing over. “You ever want me to come back, you quit bugging me.” Crystal forced her fingers to open and release the purple sleeve.

Psycho Delic smiled. “Good girl.”

Iggy took three steps to the right. His shoulder bumped against the brick wall of the alley and slowly he slid down to settle in a heap on the cement, an idiotic grin on his face, well on his way to Happyland.

Psycho Delic left the alley and strode back down the street to the gang of damp hoodlums.

“Hey, any of you assholes want to make a quick fifty bucks?” he said, grinning. That got their attention, but when he told them what he wanted, they became less than enthusiastic.

“You mean the robot? I dunno, man, how do you beat up a robot?”

“Why don't you just shoot them?” another guy muttered.

Psycho Delic smiled and his eyes glowed redder. “Nah, they have to be taken alive. And you'll have this.” He pulled out the government-issue taser. Corbin had every one of his agents supplied with the devices, with orders to carry them at all times.

Psycho Delic waited while they glanced at each other. “Come on, guys, an easy fifty, for each of you. Plus,” he added, as they muttered and shook their heads, “Let me give you a little courage. Make you feel real good, too.”

They all stared at his uplifted hand. Purple smoke rose from it as if from an invisible fire. One of them had gotten a taste of his smoke before, Joe he thought his name was, and the guy watched the smoke hungrily. He could feel them wavering. They were young, bored, and foolish enough to throw themselves into just about any fight, for less cause. Plus he could see that the bottle they were passing around was almost empty.

They glanced at each other again. Joe's bright-eyed face was impossible to miss. “Joey goes first,” one of them said with a smirk, shoving him forward.

“Hey!” Joey cried, but he quickly righted himself and shuffled toward him, embarrassed and nervous at having been picked out, but unable to resist the call. There was some good-natured shoving as the others began daring each other to go for it.

A low chuckle started deep in Psycho Delic's chest. Joey was addicted to him, and soon most of his buddies would be, too. With his powers dampened he could only dose one at a time, but it would do. He'd get back into Corbin's good graces with this arrest, and then he'd get his apartment back for sure.

\- - - - - - - -

“Enough with the statistics already,” Otto groaned, holding his head. Megamind had been wearing him down for several minutes with his cost analysis of transportation, production, and availability of the substance in question. “No more,” he said, waving a hand. “Okay. I'll make it thirty thousand. But no less.”

Megamind smiled. “Very well. Now for the matter of delivery. I suggest...”

“Shut up,” Otto snapped. He dug a notebook out of his dusty pocket and snapped his fingers impatiently. His henchman gave him a pen. “Come to this address, tomorrow.” He began to slide the paper over the table. Megamind could just make out the jumbled scrawl of the man's atrocious handwriting. “Better not be before noon. I figure...”

Dan Parker lurched into the table, knocking over the bottle. “Hey, maybe you don't remember me. You remember me, Blue?” he said, swaying. “How come you didn't say hi?”

Ralph grunted in surprise and grabbed Dan by the shirt. Dan struggled in his grip. “Why didn't you come see me? I could have gotten you the right stuff.” His voice had become a whine and he seemed oblivious of the bodyguard twisting his clothing out of shape. When Megamind entered the bar he'd been relieved, at first, that he'd walked right on by, but now Dan was sozzled enough to decide that he was insulted at being ignored.

Otto crumpled the paper in his fist. “Who's this loser!” He turned his beady eyes on Megamind. “You gonna tell me you don't know him, either?”

Megamind grimaced. “Just somebody I used to know. He's not important.”

“How do you like that?” Dan cried. “My parents take him in, and now he's too good to even talk to his brother.”

Otto looked at him, eyes narrowing. Megamind huffed out a breath. “He's not my brother. He's a waste of space,” he said. Otto stared at him impassively. “Well, foster brother, at most,” Megamind added, hating to admit it.

Otto sat back, making the chair creak and giving Megamind a long, slow look. “Family's family, kid. Even if it was a foster home,” he said with a frown. “You gotta stick by your family.”

“Yeah, that's what I say,” Dan said.

Megamind struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. “Can we please stick to the matter at hand?” he snapped. “And they did not take me in, I was never in any kind of home,” he said with a glare at Dan. “If the warden really cared, he...”

“Warden,” Otto said, lip curling in puzzlement.

Megamind clamped his lips shut. _Crap. One slip of the tongue, and this Neanderthal thinks it's some sort of entrapment conspiracy again._ He could see the wheels of suspicion once again cranking into high gear behind in Otto's eyes.

“I've been in prison my whole life, but I don't have anything to do with the warden, even if he is my supposed father.” His protests did not have the desired effect. If anything, Otto's face wrinkled even more.

“So maybe he let you out, to stretch your legs?” Otto said coldly. “And maybe you pay him back by passing along a little info once in a while?” He stood up with a scrape of the chair, shoving the address into his pocket and rising ponderously to his feet. “Deal's off.” He waggled his finger at Megamind's astonished face. “You set things right with your family. I had a foster mom once. That woman was a saint.” He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

“I'm not a narc, you brainless dolt!” Megamind cried, leaping to his feet. Otto tromped past him and headed for the door. Ralph let go of Dan and followed after him.

“Oh, come on! Let's talk about this!” he called at Otto's back. “You can't honestly think I'm some kind of spy. Nobody let me out, I got _myself_ out! Why don't you...”

Otto walked out the door.

“...fall under a bus, you paranoid twit,” Megamind muttered, and let his hands fall to his sides.

Dan slumped against the bar. “Wow,” he muttered. “What's his problem?”

Teeth drawn back in a snarl, Megamind jabbed a finger at him. “If you have two brain cells to rub together you will crawl back into that bottle and never come near me again.”

Dan's face tightened with anger. “You think you're better than me, you little creep?”

“I _know_ I'm better than you, Danny Boy,” Megamind said with a sneer, and walked away.

Dan fell on his shoulders and wrapped an arm around his neck in a choke hold, bathing him in the odors of sweat and booze. Minion shouted and lunged, but Megamind had already thrown an elbow into his gut. The arm fell away and Dan crumpled to the floor, retching.

“Hey, take it outside!” the bartender shouted.

Megamind glanced at her. “I was just leaving.” He looked at Dan, curled up on the floor. “You might want to rent a rug shampooer, though, ma'am,” he said.

“Who you callin' ma'am?” she snapped.

_There is just no pleasing people._ He took a deep breath and fixed his coat collar. “Let's go,” he said, and turned on his heel. Hitting Dan didn't feel nearly as good as he'd thought it would. Guilt and self-righteousness mingled uneasily in his stomach. _Minion would have done far greater damage. Dan got off easy, really._ Megamind held on to that thought.

The bartender glared at them as she stowed some of the dustier bottles under the bar, as if she didn't believe they were going to leave without trashing the place.

Megamind strode toward the door, wondering if he could still catch up with Otto, or whether he had already gone, or whether it would even be worthwhile trying to convince him that he wasn't a spy.

He shook his head. _A narc! Because I just blend in everywhere,_ he thought disgustedly.

Then he caught sight of waving arms and the tops of people's heads through the bar's high tinted windows and he stopped. There was also a roar, as if a horde of crazed football fans were coming in, which was odd. In his experience they tended to flock together in the fall, and here it was almost May. Had there been an unfortunate trading fiasco amongst the teams? Or maybe some baseball fans had finally snapped, just to break up the monotony.

“Maybe we should go out the back,” he said.

The door crashed back against the wall as the mob piled in. They paused for a moment. Megamind looked into their crazed eyes, and then they tackled Minion.

__

 

 

 

 

 

 


	27. Another Glorious Rivalry is Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must thank two Megamind fans, studymaniac and dead-eyedplasticdesktoy of Tumblr for their ideas about how to correct a certain weakness in Minion's robot suit. This chapter wouldn't have been the same without them! And now for today's quote...
> 
> "'Tell me, tutor,' I said. 'Is revenge a science or an art?'" -Mark Lawrence, Prince of Thorns

Minion had been in lots of fights, but usually people tried to get away from his pounding metal fists, not hurl themselves at him _en masse,_ howling like deranged gibbons.

Megamind got knocked head over heels by the charge. After falling over a table he rolled to his feet and drew the de-gun.

 _What the hell is going on?_ Megamind thought as he dehydrated first a chair and then the man who had been swinging it at Minion's dome.

Minion staggered under the weight of the bodies. He raised one arm, a frenzied attacker still clinging to it. He swung the guy up and over and sent him into the wall. Incredibly, the man got up again and leaped back into the fray.

The remaining bar patrons fled along with the bartender. A panicked customer crashed into Megamind and he slammed into the bar. Side aching, he gritted his teeth and got to his feet, then he ducked as one of Minion's attackers came flying toward him. The man skidded over the bar and fell behind it, breaking liquor bottles along the way. That guy also got up and began climbing back over the bar. Megamind dehydrated him.

Holding the de-gun in a two-handed grip, Megamind moved quickly around the brawl, trying to get a clear shot. He didn't want to accidentally dehydrate Minion, especially since he didn't want to end up facing that mob alone. They showed no fear of him or Minion. If Minion were no longer available for this insane attack, he'd be next, and odds were good they'd overwhelm him before he could shoot them all.

He walked through a cloud of smoke. Startled, he flinched and shook his head. Waving his hand to clear the air, he shot two more men, and a third that charged him.

He rubbed his nose irritably. It was weird, it didn't smell like tobacco smoke at all, and left a sickly sweet taste in the back of his throat.

The room spun and the floor tilted. He grabbed the side of his head with one hand.

Then the numbness hit. He dropped the de-gun as his legs began to fold. He staggered sideways, and caught the edge of a table to keep from falling.

What was happening? What...

Panting, he looked around, and he saw a silent figure standing back by the restrooms.

Red eyes gleamed from under the brim of a purple fedora and a skeletal grin stood out from a face that not even a mother could love.

 _Trouble, I am in trouble._ The de-gun lay on the brown-checked carpet, but it looked very far away. The walls and ceiling bowed inward and terror clutched at his chest. The building was caving in!

No, that was not right, that was not logical, it was the effect of the drug-laden cloud he'd just walked through. There was no sound of wood creaking or foundations groaning, it was all in his head.

This knowledge did not make him feel any better. He eyed the bulging ceiling with alarm. There could be _anything_ up there, and soon whatever it was would break through.

“No!” he whispered, shaking his head, trying to clear it. “Minion. Help.”

His jaw went numb. A pink fog rolled through his brain as the numb feeling ran through his arms and shoulders and torso and...

He fell on his knees, and then his hands, and that brown-checked carpet looked like just the right place for a little rest.

With tremendous effort he braced his arms and kept his head off the floor. He could see every thread of the carpet, and a little pile of pretzel crumbs, just beyond the end of his nose.

The pink fog put anchors on his eyelids. If he lay down he had a very bad feeling he would not get up again. He breathed in and out, and watched his breath stir the crumbs and carpet fibers.

He knew he had to get up but it was taking all of his will power just to keep his eyes open.

A scuffed leather shoe came near and then a purple hand reached down and picked up the de-gun by the barrel. Psycho Delic held it gingerly between two fingers, as if he were afraid it would spontaneously combust.

 _Clearly an amateur with guns,_ Megamind thought, _though he probably doesn't need one._ Psycho Delic got it turned the right way around and stuck it in the pocket of his tan trench coat.

A little ways beyond Psycho Delic, Megamind saw that his erstwhile foster brother Dan Parker was still lying on the floor next to the puddle of sickness, gaping at the scene. When he realized Megamind was looking at him, his lip curled, he muttered “Screw this,” and lurched to his feet, and ran toward the back door.

Well, his hopes hadn't been high that Dan would bother to do anything for him, especially not after Megamind clobbered him.

Megamind managed to turn his face towards the blurry struggle taking place on the other end of the bar room.

“Minion,” he mumbled.

Minion was dragging a man off his back with one arm and trying to shake off two others who were weighing down his other arm.

_Perhaps later, when Minion isn't so busy._

Psycho Delic grinned. His remaining strands of hair floated around his head like wisps of smoke. “You better take a little nap, blue boy,” he said, and pushed Megamind over with his foot.

 _Hey,_ Megamind thought as he rolled over onto his back. But even his indignation was feeble, barely a spark, and drowning in pink fog.

Psycho Delic prodded him in the head with his toe. “Corbin's thinking about lettin' you and me have some quality time,” he said, leering. “What do you think of that? Sound like fun? There's gonna be a fish fry, too.” Chuckling, he moved away to watch the struggle across the room.

That sounded like all kinds of wrong. He would have been sickened if he could have found the energy. The fish fry comment did not bode well for Minion's future, either.

Moving his heavy head, he watched Psycho Delic's feet walk back and forth.

“The taser, you dickheads!” Psycho Delic shouted. “Use the taser! Who's got it?” He readjusted his ascot over the collar.

A collar.

A man flew screaming through the air and crashed into a dart board. Darts scattered across the floor, one of them rolling under a nearby chair.

 _None of this was right,_ Megamind thought. He had to do _something._ But none of it seemed important anymore, his freedom, his glorious plans, his survival.

But he was so tired. Maybe everything would work out all right somehow if he would just stop struggling and go to sleep. That seemed like a good idea.

He knew, logically, that it was a very _bad_ idea, and if he closed his eyes he would be worse than dead, but somehow he did not care.

He stared at the bulging ceiling, which had begun to writhe like a nest of worms. Oddly, the fear of it had grown numb as well, but there was an energy there and he clung to it.

 _This is not right,_ he told himself, managing to dredge up an iota of anger.

It didn't even matter what he felt! He must act! A hazy plan stumbled through the fog and he grabbed at it.

By sheer stubbornness he forced his numb legs to push himself closer to the nearest fallen dart and rolled onto his side. His hand was numb, but by watching it closely he could still move it. He closed his fingers around the dart, pulling it close and hiding it under his side.

But he had no more strength left. The effort of seizing the dart left him winded and dizzy. _I don't have any strength. I can't do it._

He needed to get Psycho Delic to reverse the effects of whatever the drug cloud had done.

“Nice collar,” he mumbled. Damn it, his tongue felt thick as a plank and Psycho Delic couldn't hear him over the crashes and the sounds of breaking glass. The combatants had gone out the door and into the street.

“Nice collar,” he wheezed.

Psycho Delic glanced his way and tromped over.

“You like it?” he said, grinning. He pulled back the ascot to give him a full view of the plasticine and metal contraption with its row of lights. “Pretty, ain't it? I'll bet you get one too, geek.”

“Not f' long,” Megamind said. “I'd get out of it.”

Psycho Delic's face twisted, his paper-thin skin wrinkling. “Nobody gets out of it,” he said bitterly. “Can't cut it off, it shocks you right away if you try. Can't short circuit it. I went to these guys I know, techies and computer geeks, they all just shake their heads.”

Megamind managed a dry chuckle. “Had one in prison. Disabled it. Like that.” He tried to snap his fingers but missed.

Psycho Delic's eyes widened and the sneer faded. “You had one just like this? And you escaped?”

“Easy,” Megamind mumbled. “Jus' need. Right tools.”

Psycho Delic lifted a hand to the hated collar. The thing had been on him for five years now, only removed for maintenance and refitting, and only after he'd been rendered unconscious. Since he could not reliably be knocked out by most drugs, that meant regular electrocution, every six months whether he behaved or not.

The feds looked the other way from his drug deals and his womanizing, and sometimes even gave him other supers to play with, since he had a knack for torture, but he despised being at their beck and call.

A bright flash of light from outside was followed by the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground. It sounded like the fight was over. The taser had done its job. His mob of druggies were scattered all around the bar room, a few of them whimpering.

Psycho Delic looked back and forth between the shattered door and Megamind. He took off his hat and slapped it against his leg while he paced. The cops would probably be here soon, the little blue geek and his fish would be turned over to Corbin, and Psycho Delic's chance at freedom would be gone.

If they really did lock Psycho Delic alone in a room with Megamind, he might get a chance to force the little geek to get the collar off, but that was a big risk. He said he needed tools. And the feds would be watching through the mirror, and listening, too. But maybe after Corbin's thirst for revenge had been satisfied, Psycho Delic could pay Megamind a visit then. But what if Corbin killed him? That guy had a bad anger management problem. Or messed Megamind up so bad that he wasn't in any shape to get the collar off?

“Lemme go. I'll help you,” Megamind mumbled.

 _It could be a trick,_ Psycho Delic thought, glaring at him. _Little bastard could be lying._

He tugged at the collar, out of habit more than out of any real hope that it would suddenly pop off, and he made his decision.

“If you're lying, I will screw your mind up, boy,” he said, tossing the hat on a table. “Send you on a trip so bad you will never get back.” He crouched down, smoke swirling around his fingers. “This is a little booster, all right?”

Megamind adjusted his grip on the dart. He realized he was actually going to have to use the terrible little weapon. Despite his determination, his stomach turned over. _Once my head clears, I'll have to strike hard. But...a nonlethal area. Just to surprise him and throw him off balance. Then I'll deck him with a chair or something._

Psycho Delic sent a stream of smoke down to Megamind's mouth. “You better get to work right away, or I'll...”

Minion's hand landed on Psycho Delic's head and jerked him upright.

“Aaah!” Psycho Delic yelled, red eyes wide with shock, limbs flailing. Instinctively he struck out, lashing a wave of smoke at Minion, but the purple haze wafted harmlessly over the containment unit. “No! The taser!” he gasped. “You were down!”

“I've got one word for you,” Minion snarled, giving him a hard shake. “Insulation.” A thin stream of smoke came out of his right shoulder joint and there was a brief sizzling noise. “Sir, I think a couple of circuits got fried. But the arm still works. Works good, doesn't it?” he said viciously, giving Psycho Delic another shake.

“Urhlglh,” Psycho Delic gurgled.

Megamind could feel the fog lifting and he sat up, still holding the dart. “Aw, Minion, you ruined my plan!” he cried, relief flooding through him because now he didn't have to stab another living being. “See?” he said, holding out the dart. “I had everything under control.” He tossed it away and climbed to his feet.

Minion spread his fins in surprise. “Er...sorry. I think,” he said, frowning. It wasn't quite the response he was expecting.

Psycho Delic belatedly groped for the de-gun.

“Watch it!” Megamind snapped, and Minion grabbed the purple wrist and squeezed. Psycho Delic made a keening sound and dropped the de-gun.

Megamind caught it in mid-air and holstered it. There was a lingering odor of burnt rubber from the insulation he'd added to the most vital areas of Minion's robot suit. With a smug smile he addressed the captive. “Minion's susceptibility to tasers has been fixed, as you can see. ”

Squaring his shoulders he walked back and forth, swung his arms out and brought them together again, clapping his hands together at the end of each swing. He really was feeling very good. _Amazingly_ good. Especially now that the walls and ceiling had gone back to their proper places. Whatever ghastly nightmare had been about to burst out of his subconscious could damn well stay there!

“All a matter of redirection and insulation. Teflon, rubber, and surface acoustic wave filters to protect sensitive areas, particularly the command centers and Minion's containment unit,” he said, voice rising. “Pure genius! My God, it's good to be alive!”

Minion looked at him with concern. “Are you all right, Sir?”

“Never better Minion!” he shouted as his pacing quickened. Laughing, he turned to Psycho Delic. “And I never had one of those power-inhibiting collars! I don't even have any super powers, you fool! Unless they found a way to repress my magnificent brain waves! Let's see them try to disrupt _my_ synapses! Ha! I fooled you! You foolish...fool!”

He clapped both hands to his head as the surge of euphoria swept through him, almost painful in its intensity. Panting, he strode back over to the villain dangling from Minion's fist. “What did you do to me!” he shouted. He fought down a hysterical laugh.

“It's his fault!” Psycho Delic spat, his eyes darting at Minion.

“What?” Minion said. “How could it be my fault?”

“It was supposed to be a little pick-me-up to clear the cobwebs, 'til his big fat gorilla paw landed on my head,” Psycho Delic said with a sneer. “You got a full dose.”

Megamind's heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out. He paced back and forth, hitting his fists against his head. “A full dose of _what?”_ he groaned. “How long?”

A wicked smile twisted Psycho Delic's thin lips. “We'll have to see.”

Without warning Megamind grabbed Psycho Delic by the shirt and shook him. Since the man's head was still immobilized in Minion's grip this caused a great deal of pain, as his head and neck were suddenly at cross purposes. “What did you do!?” Megamind shouted.

“Hey! Sir! Stop!” Minion cried, trying to pull him away.

“Ow! Get off me you little fuck!” Psycho Delic screamed, and planted both smoking hands on Megamind's face.

Minion extended the arm holding Psycho Delic and pinned him against the closest wall.

Megamind staggered and Minion stuck his arm around his back, holding him up under the arms.

“Sir! Talk to me. Are you all right?”

Megamind slowly looked up. Minion gaped as Megamind's eyes began to rotate in opposite directions.

“Sir, say something! Please!” he begged.

“Dios mio,” Megamind whispered. “Hay una hacha en mi cabeza.” Pulling away, he seized a chair in both hands and flung it with all his might at the untouched mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar and shattered it.

Minion held up an arm against the flying glass. _'My God. There's an axe in my head.'_ he translated silently. _Why is he talking in Spanish?_

Before the shards of the broken mirror finished falling, Megamind leaped at a dart board and wrenched it off the wall and used another chair to clear a set of glasses and bottles off a table.

One of Minion's attackers regained consciousness and pushed himself to his hands and knees with a groan. Megamind strode over to him, muttering in Spanish, and kicked him in the chest. The man went sprawling back to the floor. Megamind kicked him again. “No se saldran con la suya!” he shouted.

 _'You won't get away with this'? But the fight's over! Everybody else is unconscious,_ Minion thought. He extended his free arm and pulled Megamind away from the helpless man. They'd gotten this far without murder and he wanted to see that last.

Megamind tore free of his grip, ran a full lap around the room, leaped over the bar, and began clearing all the bottles off the shelves.

Minion reeled Psycho Delic close. “What did you dope him with? Tell me or I'll squeeze.” He tightened his grip.

Psycho Delic clutched at the crushing fingers on his skull. “Don't squeeze, don't squeeze,” he gasped. “Endorphins. Adrenalin. Lots of stuff. I like to mix it up.”

Megamind leaped onto the bar again and began methodically flinging bottles one by one against the far wall, his face bearing a look of mad concentration. “Uno! Dos! Tres!” he shouted, counting each bottle as it smashed.

“That sounds like the 'pick-me-up' you were talking about,” Minion said. “What about the _second_ dose?”

Psycho Delic grimaced. “A hormonal cascade. Catecholamines.”

Minion was surprised that a guy who looked like a century old meth addict could use those big words, but Psycho Delic had been a chemist before he turned into a sadistic nutjob. Minion bared his teeth, and tightened his grip a little more. “And that means...?”

“Aah! Fight or flight response!” Psycho Delic gasped, clutching at the metal fingers. “To make him panic. I had to get him off me, you prick!”

“Great,” Minion growled. The sounds of breaking glass ceased as Megamind ran out of ammunition. Feverishly, Megamind rooted around for more unbroken bottles. Minion stared at him, looking at his wide-rimmed eyes and the sheen of sweat on his blue head. He didn’t look like he was panicking. There must have been other nasty things in that last does, or else he was having some kind of weird reaction. “How long's it gonna last?”

“I don't know. Fuck you.” Psycho Delic was through talking.

Minion clenched his teeth. He took hold of the purple man's arm with his free hand, let go of his head, then clobbered him with a chair. Psycho Delic collapsed.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

“Sir, time to go!” Minion shouted. But Megamind didn't seem to hear, and kept flinging bottles at the wall.

Minion wrung his hands. “Senor! Tiempo para ir! Por favor!”

But his plea fell on deaf ears. Megamind paced back and forth along the bar, muttering. “Como estas? Soy loco. Y tu?"

Gritting his teeth, he strode over to Megamind, grabbed him around the waist, and lifted him off the bar.

“Doorak!” Megamind roared. “Vidpusty! Uhodi ot menya!”

 _Rats, that sounds like Russian._ Minion's Russian wasn't too good, though he thought he recognized the word for 'idiot.' “Yes, Sir, I'm sure I am,” Minion said. Wrapping him in a bear hug he carried Megamind out the back door just as a police car pulled to a stop outside the ruined front of the bar.

\- - - - - - - - -

Minion jogged through the back streets, listening to the sirens. He tried circling around to where they'd left the van but the cops were all over the place, and he was forced to take a detour, getting ever further away.

Carrying his enraged master bodily along was not helping matters, either. Once he attempted to let him go, and Megamind immediately climbed halfway up a telephone pole and began shooting at a row of windows, reducing them to cubes and leaving gaps in the side of the building. Minion had to pull him down and confiscate the de-gun.

Megamind never ceased to shout, and kept switching between languages. It wasn't so bad when he locked onto French or Spanish, but Minion couldn't keep up with the others.

When his voice began echoing through the streets, Minion was forced to clamp a hand over his mouth, which only increased his outrage.

He jogged past a group of people who got off the sidewalk to get out of his way. One guy who was talking on a cell phone stared after them, giving a play-by- play as Minion hurried by. “Holy crap, you're not gonna believe this, man, that robot fish just went by! Megamind's having a fit! I dunno, man, maybe it went haywire.”

 _It? Who's the 'it'? As if I didn't know._ Minion was sorely tempted to go back and smash the phone. But his hands were full of furious teenage alien genius, so he just hurried on his way.

Lights flashed against the brick wall. Minion ducked into the alley and crouched behind a dumpster until the squad car roared past.

He hurried down the alley, hoping those pedestrians didn't flag the police car.

After a few more blocks he jogged into an area of even shabbier stores and vacant lots covered with weeds, and he stopped in the shadow of a tattoo parlor to get his bearings. The sirens didn't seem to be coming any closer, but he wondered how far he'd have to go to get to back to the van.

“Sir, please be quiet,” he begged for the umpteenth time. Even muffled, Megamind did not cease shouting and it sounded to Minion like his throat was getting sore.

Cautiously he lifted his hand away from Megamind's mouth.

“Mutinerie! Tout se paye!” he shouted.

 _Oh good, he's gone back to French again. Let's see. 'Mutiny'...'you will pay for this'... Yikes, he's pretty mad._ “Um, Monsieur, taisez-vous. S'il vous plait?”

Megamind's eyes went wide with fury and he took a deep breath. Minion clamped his hand over his mouth again just in time. _Uh oh. Wasn't that the right phrase?_ Rattled, Minion tried to remember the polite way to say 'please shut up.'

“Hey, Code Blue!”

  
Startled, Minion swung around to see Curly and Reg, the homeless men they'd talked with when Megamind was searching for the tracking device that Agent Corbin, disguised as the criminal Shadow, had planted on him.

At the sight of the struggling Megamind in the ichthyoid's robot arms, Curly's cheerful face crumbled into dismay.

“What happened, man? Why you got him all tied up?”

“He's not tied up!” Minion cried. “He's just...he's...going through ... something.”

Curly nodded in understanding. “Ohhhh,” he breathed. “Bad acid, huh?”

“No!” Minion said indignantly. “This bad guy doped him, and now he's out of his mind. Sir, stop that, you'll break your teeth!” Megamind was attempting to gnaw his way to freedom.

Minion walked on. To his annoyance, Curly tagged along, Reg padding along behind, casting wary looks around him.

“Bad news, man, some loser spiking your drink,” Curly said conversationally, nodding. His head glittered. Minion did a double take. A tin foil hat sat atop Curly's head. It was in the shape of a pyramid and was tied under his chin with a length of twine. As the wind shifted, Minion noticed that Curly was still avoiding any contact with soap.

Minion ducked down another alley.

“Can't he walk?”

“I can't let him go. Whenever I set him down he turns into a maniac.”

Minion paused in the entryway of a deli. He could try stealing a different car, but that would be tough with Megamind all crazy. He didn't think he could do it one-handed. Megamind nearly slipped out of his arms again and he adjusted his grip, almost dropping the de-gun in the process. Sir would be pretty upset if Minion broke it.

The two men glanced at each other. Curly cleared his throat. “Well, you got the cube gun thingy,” he said. “Or it maybe ran out of batteries or something?” He scratched the back of his head, worried about offending Minion with a stupid question.

Minion closed his eyes and bumped his head against his dome. “I am such an idiot,” he muttered. “Thanks, Curly. I should have thought of that before.”

Looking around, Minion saw an awning over a quick loan bank. The sidewalk underneath looked reasonably dry.

He hurried over to it and braced himself, triple-checking the de-gun to make sure it was on de-hydrate. “I'm really sorry about this, Sir, but you're not in your right mind.” Taking a huge gulp of water he shoved Megamind into the doorway.

  
Megamind's face contorted with fury and he hurled abuse at Minion in Japanese.

Minion winced and pulled the trigger.

There was silence. Sadly, Minion picked up the cube and cradled it in his hand. “He'll never forgive me.”

Curly patted him on the arm. “Aw, he'll understand, man. You didn't have any choice. He was _buggin',_ man.”

“Yeah, you guys don't want the fuzz comin' along,” said Reg, looking up and down the street. He shuffled away a few steps, hoping Curly would take the hint and come along. He hadn't survived all these years on the streets of Metro City by getting involved. A guy could get into big trouble, getting involved. They'd already hung out with the alien guys way more than he thought was wise.

“Thanks, guys,” Minion said. “Curly, Reg, I wasn't very polite the last time we saw you. We had a bad run-in with somebody, and I didn't feel like I was tough enough. I was just...”

Curly lightly bumped him with his fist, face glowing with cheer and understanding. “No prob, Bob! Had a bad day, you were all bummed out, couple of raggedy dudes are all up in your face. You're like the best bodyguard, dude. You're a good friend. Ain't that right, Reg?”

Reg eyed Minion and nodded cautiously. He'd rather have a six-hundred pound robot fish be his friend rather than his enemy.

Minion gave them a grateful smile. But the smile faded as he looked at the cube. “What am I supposed to do now? I can't take him back to Uncle Harry's like this. He'll still be all crazy once he's re-hydrated.”

“You can come with us,” said Curly. “We got a place, it's quiet and, like, out of the way. He can, you know, dry out there.”

Reg looked sharply at him. “Is he still gonna be shouting like that? I don’t know, Curly, it might bug the neighbors.” He gave Minion a worried frown. “I’m sorry, man, but there’s others like us. Kids, families.”

Minion’s fins drooped.”Oh.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Curly protested. “Can’t be any worse than when Tracy got the DTs. We’re the only ones on that side of the building. Minion will hold him down, right?” He smiled wide and patted Minion’s big arm.

“Yeah, of course, but we don’t want to be a bother,” Minion said, looking away.

“Come on, Reg, there won’t be any trouble.”

Reg wavered. Minion wasn’t trying to bully them into anything like he’d feared. The henchfish looked so lost he didn’t have the heart to refuse any longer.

“Well, okay. But just for tonight. And you have to hang on to him, man.”

Minion accepted the invitation with gratitude. As they began to walk, Curly said, “Uh, just keep going, Reg, I'll catch up with you.”

Ducking into an alley he pulled out the wadded up handkerchief that held his most precious possession. Carefully he unfolded the tracking device.

Curly brought it to his mouth. “Hey, blue guys,” he whispered. “Guess who's comin' to stay with me tonight! Yeah. Code Blue, your amigo ambassador. I'll keep you updated. Curly out.”

He bit his lip, feeling guilty about hiding it again, but Minion might get mad if he knew that Curly had it this whole time. Wrapping it up, he slipped it back in his pocket and hurried after them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over time I've become more and more interested in the characters that didn't make it into the film, such as Psycho Delic. In my own little headcanon, I see Psycho Delic as another hated rival of Megamind, second only to Metro Man, with whom he ends up locking horns, repeatedly, on his rise to the top as Metro City's top super-villain.
> 
> Translation of Megamind's Russian phrases: "Idiot! Let me go! Go away!"


	28. Breaking Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ are remarkabley consistent across different languages. (They’re not universal, as there are always exceptions, but they are very common.) This is probably because the sounds made by human lips, ‘m’, ‘p’, and ‘b’, are the easiest for babies to produce when they are learning language. Since Megamind comes from a humanoid species with the same mouth structure, I made ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ part of his native tongue. (Pun intended.)
> 
> “A foot on the neck is nine points of the law.” -Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

Agent Finney came in promptly at eight o'clock, like he did every morning, and found the new folder lying on his desk. Sipping his coffee, he read his assignment: to examine all the audio recordings from a tracking device starting from... way back in February? Specifically to identify the voices of the alien fugitives, provide a complete transcript of any and all conversations including those voices, and map all movements of the tracker. Highest priority.

He frowned as he examined the dates. Why hadn't this come in sooner? It was almost May, for crying out loud.

“Did they even bother to give samples of the voices we're looking for?” he snapped at his assistant. “This is months' worth of data.”

“Yeah, got the signatures right here.” The assistant tapped the monitor.

Finney settled back. “Well, that's something, anyway.” So it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d thought. The field agents tended to throw a mess at the techs and expect them to wave a magic wand and make it all better. Just because they weren’t out chasing suspects and slapping collars on them, there was an unspoken assumption that they weren’t “real” agents. _But we’re the ones who make them look good._

Finney called up the first audio recordings which identified the sample voices. “All right, let's start from the beginning,” he said, and they both put on their headphones.

The computer fed them the first recording. Though the tracking device had been placed on the primary target, it hadn't been activated until many minutes after the fact. He scanned the notes and clucked his tongue, irritated. The target had discovered and removed the tracker shortly after placement. So why were they bothering...? Oh. It looked like the tracking device had been picked up by another person altogether, a person who may have had direct contact with the primary.

The computer pinged, indicating a voice match. He backed up the recording a little bit so he wouldn’t miss anything, and leaned forward, listening carefully.

“Hey, Code Blue!” There was a rustle of clothing, the sound of footsteps, and a man giggling a little.

“Stop! Easy, Minion. Don’t overreact. Code Blue?”

There was the faint sound of a man clearing his throat, and another voice said, “Uh... yeah...it's...”

“It's what we say when we hear you've been by, man!” the first speaker shouted excitedly. “You go to a store, the whole place is left wide open, wide open, man, all that free stuff, man, I even slept overnight a coupla times!”

“Oh, I see,” Megamind said in a strained voice. “I visit a store, I've left the place unlocked, and you... gentlemen...pay a visit.”

Finney and the assistant transcribed the conversation, compared their copies, and gave them to another assistant to type up. Then they sat back as they waited for the computer to find another recording of the voice samples.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Psycho Delic had him, he had the little blue freak right there!” Corbin shouted. “Why wasn’t I notified?”

“For like two minutes! What difference does it make?” Bates snapped. “You want to get waked up just so they can tell you he got away again? What were you gonna do, go running over there to help the cops sweep up the trash?”

“I expect to be kept informed! Psycho couldn’t even...” Corbin glared at the door to his office which had cautiously creaked open.

Sparkle stood there, fidgeting. She wore her costume today and her ponytail which hung out the back of her head covering looked like she’d made an effort to brush it.

“What?” he snapped.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” she said, her voice a squeak. She stepped in, closing the door behind her. “Can we talk in private?”

Bates began to stand.

“Where do you think you're going?” Corbin said.

Bates rolled his eyes, shook his head, and strolled to the other side of the room, reading through a file he held and avoiding Sparkle's eyes.

Corbin stood up and came around the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well? Kind of busy here.”

Sparkle shifted her weight from foot to foot, glancing at Bates. She swallowed and came closer, talking in such a quiet voice that Corbin could barely understand her. His rage went up another notch. He hated mumbling.

“It's just that I was worried,” she whispered. “After your...your accident...”

Corbin snorted. “Wasn't an accident, sweetheart. Come on, out with it.”

She stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm, her eyes anxiously searching his face. “But you haven't called or anything. I miss you. Maybe I could come over tonight?”

He slapped her hard enough to turn her head.

Her hand flew to her cheek. He stood over her, jabbing a finger at her to illustrate his point. In a low voice he said, “When I want that, I will tell you when I...”

Then she turned her face to him, and her eyes were twin suns. She opened her mouth with a sound like escaping steam. “Hssssssss.”

Corbin's eyes widened. The heat radiating off her was like a six hundred degree oven.

She lifted off the floor, bright sparks floating around her arms as she raised them. Her hands glowed even brighter than her eyes. Sparks skittered and danced over the carpet and the papers on the desk, leaving scorch marks.

The backs of Corbin’s legs hit the desk as he backpedaled. He wished he hadn't left his gun hanging on the coat rack. If a fire started, the sprinklers would go off which might bring her to her senses, but it might be too late by then. Sparkle's ponytail fanned out behind her head like a crown.

“Bates!” said Corbin, his voice a croak, and he would have told him to take her out, but then her head bumped against the ceiling and she blinked.

The blinding light faded and the sparks winked out. Her eyes were wide, but normal, pupils mere pinpricks. She dropped to the floor so quickly that she stumbled. She lifted her hands, staring at them in horror, and burst into tears. “I'm so sorry, Ed!” she cried and flung her arms around him.

“Aah!” he yelped. Her hands were almost burning through his shirt. He grabbed her elbows and held her arms away from his body while she hung her head and wept.

He looked over at Bates. The other agent had his gun trained on her. With a grim look, he holstered it.

Corbin swallowed hard. “Sparkle,” he said. “It's all right. Why don't you go to the bathroom and get yourself together? Okay?”

Sniffling she looked up at him and nodded. He cautiously let her go and she left, wiping her cheeks.

Corbin went around to the chair at his desk and fell into it. He rummaged around in a bottom drawer and grabbed the flask.

Bates scowled. “Man, we better get a collar on her right now! I almost had to pop her. We can't afford another investigation.”

Mute, Corbin shook his head and took a swig, feeling the burn of the scotch steady his hands. “Not just yet.”

Bates gave him a disgusted look. “You don’t have to do it! I'll have Feiffer knock her out when she comes back from the restroom.”

Corbin slammed his fist on the desk. “I can handle her, damn it! I'll invite her over tonight. I’ll collar her myself.”

Bates’ mouth fell open. The look he gave Corbin was amazement tinged with admiration. “Man, you're either crazy, or you got balls. You better hope she doesn't burn 'em off. You still gonna sleep with her?”

Corbin didn't answer. Quite frankly he didn't want to touch her ever again, but no reason to let Bates know that.

He took another swig, careful to tilt his head so that none of the liquid would escape from the place where the scars made his lip pull back in a slight sneer. Soon he’d meet with a plastic surgeon to get it fixed, hopefully. Having to keep tilting his jaw and head while he ate or drank made him feel like he was developing a nervous tic. He just didn’t have time right now to make the appointment. Later, after they caught that little blue bastard.

If there was any useful advice he ever learned from his father, who had ruined his health working for the Boston police department and gotten stabbed in the back for all his years of service, it was to never show weakness, and to take what he could get. Corbin had wiped out every other vestige of his origins, the hick New England accent being the first thing he’d shed as soon as he left home.

There was another knock at the door and Agent Finney stuck his head in.

Corbin slipped the flask back in the drawer. “Transcription done already?”

The technician adjusted his glasses. “Not yet, but I found some ...”

“Then what the hell are you doing up here?” Corbin snapped. “Do I have to tell everyone how to do their jobs?”

The technician narrowed his eyes. “I should hope not, Agent,” he said coldly. They glared at each other.

Bates cleared his throat. “What you got for us?”

The technician adjusted his shirt sleeves. “Something came up that I thought you would be interested to know,” he said. “We believe the primary target is currently in contact with the recording device.”

Corbin jumped to his feet. “What? You mean NOW? Where?”

Finney adjusted his glasses. “A neighborhood by the docks. Here’s a map.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Corbin assembled his team, even getting a hold of Freezer Burn and giving him directions to meet them. Ulrich, that useless lump, was still sitting in a police cell. So far DPI had managed to block the attempts by Austria to extradite Ulrich, but hadn’t quite gotten him back into their own custody yet. The Metro City police were still pretty ticked off at Ulrich’s attack on their dogs and lieutenant.

Corbin ordered Ross to bring Psycho Delic along. Ross thought about reminding Corbin that the super was in no shape for a manhunt, but thought better of it.

Psycho Delic was brought up from DPI’s cell. Corbin snapped his fingers impatiently at Ross, who, with a pang of misgiving, handed over the remote control for Psycho Delic’s collar.

“Walk with me,” Corbin said, and strode down the hall to the garage, Psycho Delic sullenly keeping pace. The other agents trailed behind them.

The purple man’s coat flapped open, the battered fedora perched on the bandage wrapped around his ugly skull, and his clothes were wrinkled and still smelled of cigarette smoke from Lucky Jack’s Bar, and the perfume of whatever whore he’d been with last.

Corbin almost gave him a shock just for being a slob. “You’re a lucky man,” he said. “Want to know why?”

From long experience Psycho Delic knew that it was best to answer no matter how stupid the question. “Why?” he asked in a flat voice.

“Because this is your big chance to make me happy again. Little freak spanked you pretty good, didn’t he?”

Psycho Delic ground his teeth. The action sent a jolt of pain through his head. He had a concussion, and not for the first time he wished he could medicate himself. Out of desperation he’d taken an entire bottle of Tylenol, and his stomach was making some weird gurgling sounds, but the medicine was having no effect at all on his splitting headache. “I would’ve had him if it wasn’t for that damn robot,” he said. “Next time, I’ll...”

“Yeah, and there’s that thing I’m still kind of confused about,” Corbin interrupted. “Minion just came over and grabbed you. You said you thought he was down because he got tasered, and it turns out tasers don’t work on him anymore. Thanks for finding that out. But a huge robot clumps up behind you and you didn’t notice? Megamind was down, too, you said, so he couldn’t have been making trouble. What were you doing?”

Not a muscle moved in Psycho Delic’s face. “Nothing.”

“Maybe you were having a little chat with the blue boy? Getting to know each other, making big plans?”

“No,” Psycho Delic said.

Their footsteps in the hallway seemed very loud.

“What I need to know is, are you still part of the team?” Corbin’s voice was hard.

Psycho Delic glanced at the remote in the agent’s hand and swallowed. “Yes,” he mumbled.

Corbin smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Rage made Psycho Delic’s eyes glow like red hot coals, but he looked away so that Corbin wouldn’t see. _One of these days,_ he thought with savage determination. _One of these days I’ll get out of this collar, and you won’t have that little remote, and all your fancy kung fu moves won’t help you when I fry your brain._

“Now, here’s what I want from you today,” said Corbin. “I know you like to put little hooks in your smoke to get people addicted to you, because you like to see ‘em crawl. We’re going to an area where the little freak is at, and you’re going to call him.”

Psycho Delic gave him a puzzled look. “Call him?”

“That’s right. We’ll close the place off, but Megamind’s slipperier than fricking Houdini, so you are going to make your presence known to him. You’re going to call him to come to you.”

“What, you mean like walk around going ‘here little freak boy, come here’?”

“That’s right.” Their footsteps echoed as they came out of the stairwell and entered the garage. The agents rapidly filed to their cars, but Psycho Delic’s steps slowed.

“But it doesn’t work like that,” he said. _You fucking moron,_ he added silently. “Maybe in a week, when he starts to get the craving, maybe then he might start looking for me to beg for a hit, but I can’t just call people so they come running.”

Besides, he wasn’t sure his ‘hook’, as Corbin called it, had taken hold of the little blue geek. Megamind hadn’t reacted in the way he’d expected.

Usually guys ran screaming into the night after getting pasted with the hormonal cascade, but Megamind had started speaking in tongues and attacked the entire bar room. Maybe it was his alien biology at work, or his fast healing skills had warped the effects of Psycho Delic’s drug cloud.

“Soon as he sees you and these jerks he’s gonna run,” he said, nodding at the agents getting into the vehicles. “Even if he does have the hunger. It’s not mind control. I can’t...”

Corbin tilted his head. “How do you know unless you try? And you are going to try.” He raised the remote. “You better try real hard.”

Sparkle drifted along at the back, pale and silent. Corbin brought her along, but made her ride in another vehicle.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Megamind returned to consciousness because his cheek was numb. It seemed to be welded into the crook of Minion’s arm.

Speaking of crooks, there was also a crick in his neck because of the unnatural angle he had acquired while sleeping face down, and as he attempted to lift his head, he swore he heard his back creak. Crooks, cricks, and creaks about summed up the state of things.

He tried to lift his head but Minion’s arms were locked around him so tightly that he could barely move, and his brain was wrapped in fog.

Why was Minion holding him? He craned his sore neck up toward the containment unit, and could just see Minion sleeping peacefully.

“Minion,” he croaked. Geez, he needed some water. It brought to mind disturbing memories of waking up in the car the morning after they’d escaped from Corbin and company.

But he didn’t seem to be injured this time. His limbs moved freely, or as freely as they could within the robotic embrace, and he wasn’t in pain, exactly, though he was sore from sleeping in a weird position and his head throbbed. There was an odd lingering taste in his mouth like strawberry tar, and he’d had some sick dream about zombie clowns and video games. It felt so real... and a purple dessicated face with yellowing teeth sneering at him...

With the unstoppability of a steamroller, certain memories of the previous night caught up to him. There were some gaping holes, but what he did remember made his face burn. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Minion’s arm. He had been completely out of control, trapped in a nightmare, switching languages as if a devil in his brain was switching channels. Shooting at things that weren’t there.

He got one arm free and pounded on the metal shoulder with his fist. “Minion, come on, wake up! Hey!”

Minion awoke with a jerk. To Megamind’s amazement, he immediately began singing in Ahrini, the language of their home planet.

{“All the little niwa flying, flying,

All the little niwa flying home.

All the little niwa nesting, nesting,

All the little...”}

{“Minion, what... a lullaby? What am I, two?”} he croaked, falling into their childhood tongue.

Minion stopped and gave him a look of pure relief. {“Oh, you’re back! Thank the stars! I must have sung that five hundred times. Almost lost my mind.”}

{“Let go of me,”} Megamind grumbled, pushing on the metal arms locked around him. Minion let him go and he limped a few steps into the room.

Piles of trash lay randomly against the walls. Three desks covered with appliances were opposite the only door. Two broken swivel chairs sat next to a card table under one of the windows. The card table had a prosthetic leg made of a two-by-four and was piled high with cans of partially eaten food and take-out containers, along with a few odd triangular shapes.

Several of these pyramids sat around the room. Megamind picked one up from the table and realized it was a pyramid hat made from used aluminum foil. A few bits of blackened food clung to the edges.

He looked out through the blinds at the one- and two-story buildings, all with boarded up windows. There was the sound of a truck backing up somewhere in the distance. A raggedy man was scooping water out of a huge pothole in the middle of the street, an equally shabby dog lapping it up next to him.

Something moved on the ceiling, and he realized it was a mobile of little pyramids, also made of foil. Several of these hung from the ceiling, moving slowly in the air currents. White triangles were painted on the walls. It was like some deranged version of his lost lair, and he wondered if he was still hallucinating.

Slowly he backed toward Minion. “Why were you singing that lullaby?” he said irritably. But even as he asked the question, he remembered why. He covered his face with his hands.

“Well, you said you couldn’t sleep,” Minion said. “Unless I sang to you like...er...” He cleared his throat.”...like Mama did.”

“Ohhhh, nooo,” Megamind groaned and sank down, crouching on the floor in a sort of modified fetal position.

Minion bent over and patted him on the back. “But you were talking in Ahrini, no one else could understand you!”

Megamind dropped his hands and peered up at him with wrinkled brows. “What do you mean no one else? Who else?”

A pile of rags on the far side of the room sat up, making him jump up. “Hey, hey!” Curly said cheerfully. “Look who’s up! How you feelin’, Code Blue?”

 _Oh that’s right. The soap-a-phobic._ No wonder the room had such an overwhelming personality. Megamind had a very hazy memory of meeting him last night, when Minion...

Slowly he turned a look of steel on his faithful fish. “You SHOT me,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Minion drew himself up. “I’m very sorry about that, Sir, but I didn’t have much choice. You were totally nuts."

Megamind stuck out his chin. “I’ll have my de-gun back, if you please,” he said, frost coating every word. Minion handed it back with caution, and Megamind returned it to the holster.

Curly ambled over to a little refrigerator and pulled out a package of hot dogs. “Score! There’s still some dogs left. You guys want breakfast?”

Megamind looked at the greasy package in alarm. He doubted that there was any electrical power in the building and he didn’t want to think about how long those hot dogs had been sitting there, quietly growing new life forms.

He flinched when another pile of rags sat up, rubbing its eyes. “How many people are in here?” he cried. He strode around the room, glaring at the trash.

Reg watched him narrowly from the second pile. “He okay?”

“Yeah, man, he’s good. Got it out of his system,” Curly said. “We were just about to eat.” He went over to one of the desks and pushed aside a dismembered telephone to reveal a propane camping stove. He lit it with a disposable lighter. He picked up a gallon jug half full of water, poured a little into a saucepan and dumped the hot dogs into it. “Anybody want some coffee? I got instant.”

“No coffee,” Megamind and Minion said together. Minion picked up the water jug and stood in front of Megamind to stop his frenetic examination of the room. “Here, take some, you’ll feel a lot better. No one else is in this building, Sir.”

“Got the whole place to ourselves,” Curly said.

“Wonder why?” Megamind grumbled. He almost made a snide remark about overpowering odors being the best guarantee of personal space, but he bit it back. He was in a rotten mood but not rotten enough to hurt this harmless crackpot’s feelings. Megamind was so thirsty he didn’t even ask if there were any cups.

“Wow,” Curly said, watching him guzzle most of the half gallon. “You must be part fish. Makes sense, makes a lot of sense.” He nodded sagely. “Ah-ri must have had even more water than ol’ Earth, do you think?”

Megamind screwed the cap back on the jug very carefully and fixed Minion with another glare. “I thought you said no one could understand me. You translated?” He had a hazy recollection of rambling on and on about Mama and Papa. Bad enough to blather on and on without everyone knowing what he was blathering about. How many others had witnessed his meltdown? His ears and cheeks burned again.

Minion tapped his fingertips together nervously. “Not everything. Just a little. It was mostly just me talking about stuff. It was a long night,” he mumbled.

Quite frankly it was a relief to have someone to talk to who wasn’t practically foaming at the mouth. Though to be fair, Megamind was in a depressive funk by then, and had stopped trying to flee into the night and was flopped bonelessly in Minion’s arms, talking in a steady drone about destiny and death and lost worlds, and could Minion sing that one song that Mama used to sing?

The word Mama was the same in English as it was in Ahrini, and Curly asked what it was all about, and so, between singing the lullaby (which quieted Sir right down for a few minutes), he told Curly and Reg the whole story of how they’d landed on Earth.

The Alien Oversight Committee once questioned Sir when he was about four, attempting to uncover an alien invasion plot, but the interrogation frightened him and he clammed up, and, when they persisted, finally began crying. The warden put a stop to it.

No one ever thought to ask Minion anything. The warden and the uncles assumed that they were too young to remember their home planet. Curly was the first person to ever ask Minion about his past. It was really quite gratifying to have Curly hang on his words as if he were some great storyteller, and even Reg, who had retired to his bed early and done his best to ignore Megamind’s rants, rolled over to listen.

Curly turned to Minion and said, “I been thinkin’ about what you said last night, about you two bein’ orphans and all alone in the world...”

Minion met Megamind’s hardening glare. “I did not put it like that, Sir. Really,” he said, waving his hands.

Curly spoke on, cheerfully. “...but if the blue people could make a itty bitty spaceship, they should be able to make a big one, right? There’s probably lots of ‘em!”

Megamind’s legs went weak. He groped for one of the chairs and sat down, rubbing his temples. It was too early in the morning for this drivel.

Reg coughed and said, “Uh, hey, Curly, don’t you think you should check on the food? I think...”

Curly glanced toward the little stove. “Nah, it’s fine, man.” He went back to his spiel. “And when they get here, it’s gonna be a whole new age, man! You’re like the ambassador, Code Blue. You’re like the bridge between Earth and the blue people! It’ll be the Age of Aquarius, peace and light, man! ” He gave Megamind a big toothy grin, eyes sparkling.

Megamind’s neck muscles tightened. _They’re all dead, you delusional idiot! No one is coming! No majestic alien race is going to fly in from the other side of the universe to save Earth from itself!_ Though he felt like screaming, he made his voice calm. “Curly...” he said.

“Hey, you know what?” Curly shouted so suddenly that Megamind’s elbow shot out and knocked half the food containers off the table. “Your mom could be out there right now, looking for you, man! You just gotta sit tight.”

Minion waved his hands. “Whoa, hold on, I don’t know about that!”

Megamind clenched his fists. _I am not going to let him start rambling on about my mother._ “Curly...” he said again.

“Because that’s what I woulda done,” Curly said, and his face drooped. “When I was little, my mom had to go make a phone call once, and she said she’d be right back. She told me I had to stay in the house. And she was real late getting back.” He sniffed. “Ain’t that right, Reg?”

Reg took the cigarette out of his mouth and nodded. “That’s right, Curly. She probably just got held up somewhere,” he said gently.

Curly nodded vigorously and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Yeah, and I told ‘em that, too, but they didn’t listen. I was supposed to stay there in the house so’s she could find me, but they wouldn’t let me. Said I had to go with them, and I got put in a home, man, a guvment home.” He bit his lip, jaw quivering.

“But you didn’t let them get you down, Curly,” Reg said, blowing smoke out in a stream. “Remember?”

Curly’s eyes shone with tears, but then he blinked and the soft wrinkles of his face joined up in a smile again. “Yeah, that’s right, I was too smart for ‘em, man. The guvment’s got ways of readin’ your mind, but this here hat stops the brainwaves.” He pointed at the foil hat on his greasy hair. “Because my mom must’ve known something about the aliens and that’s why she had to vamoose, and they know she’s coming back, so they want to catch her when she does, only they won’t, because they won’t be able to read my mind. See?”

Completely mystified, Megamind nodded.

Curly nodded happily. “When I heard a real live alien baby landed right here on Earth, that was like the greatest day of my life! Because it means we’re not alone, man, and someday we’re gonna join up with the rest of the universe! Hey, when your folks come, can I go for a ride on the spaceship sometime?” he said anxiously. “Only I can’t leave Earth for good or anything, ‘cause I gotta be in the vicinity when my mom comes back.”

Megamind glanced at Minion and Reg, frozen in place and braced for his explosion. Then he looked into Curly’s happy, innocent eyes and thought about how some people get stronger through adversity and some people break, and he decided that maybe Curly’s delusions were preferable to Curly’s reality. Besides, if he made the man cry he’d never be able to live with himself.

“Yes. Yes, of course you can come along for a ride. Why not?” he said, leaning back in the creaking chair. It almost tipped over and he grabbed the table edge. “But it might be a while,” he warned, hoping to stave off any questions about when the starship would come along.

Curly boxed at the air. “All RIGHT! And I’ll bet it’ll happen sooner than you think, Code Blue,” he said, waving his finger and giving him a big wink. “Oh, hey, the dogs are done.” He sauntered over to the hot plate.

Megamind eased out of the chair and sidled over to Minion. “Get me out of here,” he whispered through his teeth.

But Minion had a rare look of disapproval on his face. “Sir, I think we can at least stay for breakfast,” he said sternly. “It’s the least we can do, after they invited us into their home. And especially since you were...you know... kind of difficult last night.” Also, he wasn’t quite ready to tell him that the van had been left behind, many blocks away.

Megamind threw his hands up in the air. “Sure! Why not?” he cried. “I’ve been chased, cut, kicked, punched, strangled, and gotten a nice set of scars on my arm! Haven’t tried food poisoning yet! Can’t wait to find out what that’s like! Before my last meal, I’m going for a nourishing walk.”

Minion’s eye ridges shot up. “Now? It’s the middle of the...”

“I don’t care! I need some fresh air. Where’s my coat?”

Minion pointed silently at the black trench coat lying across one of the desks.

Megamind swung it on, shoved his arms into the sleeves, and snapped up the collar. “Take a look at the street, Minion, I don’t think the place is exactly a hotbed of activity. Curly, where are we? Near the pier? The old fish market?”

“Yeah, man. Hey, it oughta be okay, man,” he said, at Minion’s concerned look. “Nobody around here but squatters like us. A lot of ‘em probably went downtown by now for work. In fact, me and Reg were thinkin’ about going to the subway crosstown, for noon rush hour. Sometimes it’s...”

Megamind didn’t stick around for the full explanation of the homeless panhandling schedule, but Curly’s voice followed him down the darkened hallway.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Minion sighed. He was glad that Sir hadn’t blown his top. Curly’s worldview was kind of exasperating. He was sure Megamind would feel better after a little walk.

Minion accepted the hot dog Curly offered, but he too was a little concerned about the lack of refrigeration. “Er, I’ll save it for later. And Curly, you shouldn’t talka bout Sir’s mother anymore.”

Curly looked bewildered. “Oh, how come?”

Minion realized that explaining could take up the rest of the morning. “It’s... it’s an alien thing,” he said helplessly.

It seemed to work. Curly’s mouth and eyes opened wide. “Ohhh, yeah, it’s cultural, right?”he said, grinning and tapping the side of his nose. “No prob, Bob.”

Reg gestured at the hot dog congealing on Minion’s paper plate. “Don’t worry about the food,” he said. “I got a bag of ice yesterday, put it in the fridge. Won’t lie, we got the hot dogs out of the dumpster, but they hadn’t been opened.” He took a drag of the cigarette. “The thing about dumpsters, if you go to the same ones regular, you know what’s just been tossed and what’s been sittin’ for a while. Those hadn’t been there long.” He gave Minion a reassuring nod and tucked in to his own plate of food.

“So, you got a bag of ice, but got food from the dumpster?” Minion asked.

“We had enough money to either buy food for one meal, or I figured we could use it to buy some ice, find food to save, and eat for two, three days.”

Curly sat on his bed of rags and began work on another hat, taping foil over a cardboard frame. “Have a seat, man,” he said, gesturing at the other chair.

“Oh, I’d probably break it. Besides, this robot body doesn’t get tired.”

Reg looked at Minion sideways. “You mind if I take a closer look at you?” he asked shyly. When Minion said it was okay, Reg sidled over and peered up at the containment unit, and walked around the robot suit. “Wow, you really are just a little fish,” he said. “And you move this great big thing around. That’s amazing.”

There was such wonder in his voice that Minion blushed. “Sir made this for me,” he said, his little body puffed with pride. “He can build anything.”

“I believe it.” Reg went back to the table. “That song, those little... niwa? What are those?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Minion waved his fins while he thought about how to describe them. “They were like little snakes with green wings. They shimmered.”

“You mean like bat wings?”

“No, actually, their wings were made of modified scales that looked a lot like feathers. They were about the size of robins, and I think they were warm-blooded.” Minion bit his lip. His biology lessons had just gotten started when the world ended. He sighed, thinking of home and of all the things that had been lost.

The hot dog didn’t seem so terrifying anymore. Reg and Curly looked like they weren’t suffering from stomachaches, so Minion decided to risk it. They watched him open the top of the containment unit and bite it in two.

“Not bad, eh?” Curly said. “And only two weeks past the expiration date.”

Minion stopped chewing. “I have to... er... I better go and... something I need to... take care of...” he croaked, and hurried out of the room. Safely out of sight in the hallway, he spat it out. Boy, it sure took a lot of work, being polite.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

The early May morning was cool and Megamind shoved his hands in his pockets. The sun shone on the upper stories of the buildings, making a dark canyon of the street.

It was like an abandoned war zone. Shattered windows gaped from storefronts, their boards scavenged long ago. Huge potholes riddled the street. A street lamp tilted at a 45 degree angle across the sidewalk.

Through a gap in the buildings a giant crane swung a crate off a ship at the pier. It was business as usual at the Port Authority. The decayed street he was walking down might as well have been in another world.

Some of the buildings had collapsed roofs. In an empty lot there were a few tents and rough houses made out of scavenged boards. Fires flickered within metal barrels. People slumped by the fires, giving him weary looks as if it was too much effort to get excited about the appearance of an alien in their midst. They didn’t seem unfriendly, but their depression dragged at him. A baby cried from one of the huts. He walked on briskly.

Blankets and concrete blocks inexpertly plugged some of the gaping holes in old storefronts, showing that they’d been claimed by squatters.

He turned a corner, then edged between a partially collapsed wall and the skeleton of a fifty year old truck, and Lake Michigan opened out before him. Seagulls wheeled overhead.

Some distance down the rocky beach a man, a woman, and another woman in a wheelchair were fishing. They stared at him to see if he was going to do anything interesting, then turned their attention back to their poles, though the two able-bodied ones shifted sideways so they could keep an eye on him.

He flung a few rocks into the water. The fresh wind coming off the lake made him feel better, though Curly’s spiel still rankled. Why did these UFO loonies always think that aliens were going to make Earth a hippie paradise?

Though it could have been worse. Curly could have been the other sort of loonie, the sort who believed in alien abductions and thought aliens were going to take over the world.

Ha! He should take over the world. That’d show them.

An ee-vil smile stretched out his lips. _Mustn’t be greedy. This city will do nicely._ Yes. Why not? Take over the city, and he and Minion would never have to run again.

He heaved a chunk of concrete into the waves. Funny how inspiration worked.

He supposed he should head back, pretend to eat one of those horrible hot dogs, and make small talk. Perhaps hanging out here for the day would be the best option, while he figured out how to salvage his evil plan. Go track down drug dealer Otto again, or find Corbin’s pet computer hacker?

He wouldn’t be able to handle much more of Curly’s ramblings, though. He’d have to impress upon him the importance of silence.

 _I wonder where Minion parked the van?_ Some of those potholes were big enough to swallow a Volkswagen beetle.

The sound of a car door made him look around. He couldn’t see where it was because of the wall, but it sounded close by. Men’s voices murmured.

With a sense of unease, he peered around the rubble and his eyes widened.

Agents Feiffer and Pitt walked over to another feds’ car that had just pulled up. Two more federal agents got out, and Freezer Burn came out of the back seat.

Megamind jerked his head back, heart hammering. What the----? Fieffer and Pitt! What were those losers doing here?!

One of the agents said, “Okay, start here, Freezer Burn. Block the street and make the wall all the way down to the lake. Then come back and continue on around the back of these buildings.”

The ice made a crackling noise as it spread.

Megamind ran back towards Minion, parallel to the street he’d just walked down, using the broken wall for cover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I wish I could have included more about their original language and their home planet, but these ideas were developed over time. Otherwise I would have had them sneakily talking in Ahrini more. Having their own language that no one else can understand would certainly be useful!
> 
> More thoughts: I imagine there were many languages spoken on Ah-Ri, but probably one or two were widespread and which most everyone knew, just as a practical matter.


	29. The Hunt for Code Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This was no time to go totally mad. You had to maintain standards." -Terry Pratchett, Nation

Sparkle glided along the air currents. From up here she could see the pattern of men making a rough half circle around the neighborhood. It was such a large area that DPI didn’t have enough agents to cover it so the FBI was supplying extra agents to help out.

Some agents were talking to three people fishing on the beach. Sparkle watched as the fisherpeople shook their heads and shrugged at the agents’ questions. The agents made them come along to where the rest of the squatters were being herded, though their progress was slowed by the fact that they had to carry the one in the wheelchair over the rocks.

Sparkle floated over the buildings, most of them one- and two-story wooden structures, several of which leaned against each other like weary old men. They were dwarfed by the more modern buildings a few short blocks away and occasionally a shadow from the massive crane at the Port Authority sliced across the winding street.

Freezer Burn’s ice wall made a thick white curve along the southeastern side, and was about a third of the way done. Eight feet high and slippery, it would stop most runners, though someone really determined could scale it if he happened to have a set of crampons on his shoes, but he’d be spotted immediately.

With the lake on one side and the agents enclosing the area on the other, it was only a matter of time before Megamind was forced out of hiding.

Her orders were to keep her distance and watch, to alert Corbin of anyone attempting to flee, but her thoughts were heavy and she didn’t pay attention to how low she was drifting until she almost ran into a corner of a building. With a start she flew higher. The communicator in her ear crackled. She flinched.

“What the hell are you doing? You see anything?” Corbin snapped.

Sparkle grimaced. Why did he watch her all the time? It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go.

She put her hand to the communicator’s respond button. “No, I don’t see either of them. Wait. Someone running, near Freezer Burn’s location. They ran up against the wall.”

She watched dully as whoever it was traveled along the wall, agents in pursuit. He made a leap and grabbed for the top of the wall but he slipped off and was forced to the ground.

Her communicator crackled again. “All right, we got him. Not either of the targets. Keep a lookout.”

The communicator went silent. Gulls wheeled and cried around her.

She liked flying, and was grateful to Edward for helping her unlock her power of flight. Her other power was too terrible to even...

Her throat tightened and she dug her fingernails into her arm. She almost lost control again, she must never lose control. It was so horrible, what happened to her last boyfriend.

The image of Larry, screaming and beating at the flames consuming his hair, flashed through her mind.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and swiped at the tears blurring her sight. Larry would have to live with the scars and wear wigs for the rest of his life.

Her cheek still stung from where Corbin had slapped her. She’d just been trying to be nice, but Corbin didn’t do nice. He had only gotten worse since Minion almost bit his face off.

She should be angry about that. Edward Corbin was her lover and protector. He was the one who cut a deal with the prosecutor, saved her from a prison sentence. She’d only been fifteen at the time and scared shitless, but Corbin, he helped her out. Minion had made things worse for her.

And Megamind! That little brute, he held a gun against Edward’s head, he could have killed him. She really should be angry about that, too.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, as if some wild animal were struggling to get out.

Sometimes she wondered if going to prison for what she did to Larry would really be worse than what she had to put up with now.

Corbin had waited. Waited until she turned sixteen, the age of consent in most states, before seducing her.

 _And he didn’t even have to work very hard at that,_ she thought bitterly. She’d been so pathetically grateful for the attention.

She was twenty-one now, and what did she have? A man who took her for granted and used her when convenient, no friends, no family, at least no family she dared contact.

A wave of resentment washed over her. What was with Megamind? Couldn’t he see that fighting back was hopeless? A little freak with nothing, he could run and fight all he liked, Corbin would catch him in the end.

Yes, she really ought to be very angry.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind darted into one of the rotted buildings, startling the group of men and women living there. He hurried to the front window and lifted the edge of a torn blanket covering it, trying to see the street.

One of the squatters held up a bottle. “Hey, man, want a little hair of the dog? Feel better in no time.”

Megamind shot her a confused look. “Dog hair? I don’t need any dog hair.” It must be some new drink he hadn’t heard of. Surely they could have come up with a more appetizing name.

He peered out the window again. He could hear voices from about three blocks down. Though he couldn’t quite see what was happening it sounded like the feds were working their way along the street from both ends.

In the room behind him the squatters exchanged meaningful looks. Gossip spread quickly. It was both entertainment and a way of looking out for one another. Rosie needed diapers for her kid? They took up a collection, or picked up diapers when there was a sale. Jamal’s cough getting worse? Somebody found him some medicine, or took him to the clinic on the free day. Hannah and Rico fighting again? Well, sometimes all they could do was plug their ears, but once in a while a few neighbors dropping by with a little weed could help smooth things over. Everybody knew about Reg and Curly’s special guests. They heard Megamind shouting and carrying on half the night, but everybody had problems, so who were they to judge?

“You looking for somebody?” another asked.

“There are government agents after me. They’re coming down the street right now,” Megamind whispered.

More meaningful looks travelled around the room. The woman with the bottle pushed the newspapers off her lap, got to her feet, and shuffled over to Megamind.

“Okay, just keep cool, man,” she said in a soothing voice. “Why doncha sit down over here, have a coupla swigs, try and relax. Yer just havin’ a watchamacallit, an episode. Wow, you really do got a big head.”

“No kidding,” Megamind muttered, glancing up. His eyes widened when he saw her raised finger hovering in the air. She was actually about to poke him in the head! He fixed her with a scowl and she quickly drew back the offending hand. He turned his attention back to the window. He didn’t dare lean out far enough to get a good look.

The homeless woman belched gently. “Scuse me. It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of, man, happens to the best of us. I remember this one time I dropped acid, and I was so out of it I thought pink leopards were chasin’ me. Pink! I was lucky I had my buddy Mariko, she was from Japan, you know, this was back in college, and she...”

Megamind whirled. “Listen, you numskull, I’m not hallucinating! There are real federal agents out there rounding everyone up, and if you don’t watch out you’ll be next!”

There was a shout from outside, and a babble of protesting voices.

Another squatter lurched to his feet, holding onto the wall. “What’s goin’ on out there, Sandy?”

Sandy jerked the blanket aside and leaned out.

Megamind ducked under the sill. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “Close that!”

Sandy said, “Looks like some dudes are... damn, I think they are feds.”

The man laughed nervously. “Oh, ha ha, Sandy.” His gaze shifted uneasily from her to Megamind.

Two other men exchanged wide-eyed looks and quickly began shoving their things into backpacks.

Sandy stood on her toes, looking down the street. “I’m serious. They all got sunglasses and trenchcoats. Holy crap, a girl just flew by!”

“Say what?!”

“You sure it wasn’t Metro Man?”

“I know what a girl looks like, doofus! She was wearin’ green.”

Everyone jumped to their feet and crowded around the window, except for the two men who clearly had urgent business somewhere other than the middle of a dragnet and raced out of the room even quicker than Megamind.

The men ran toward the back of the building. Megamind took a side door. He went into the alley and peered around the corner.

Now he could see them. The feds were about three blocks down to the right. The street curved so he couldn’t tell how far away they were on the left. Curly and Reg’s place was across the way.

He looked up but couldn’t see the flying girl. He guessed it was Sparkle. From what little he knew of her he didn’t think she would try to apprehend him, but if she spotted him, it was all over. People were shuffling out of the buildings and huts. At least he wasn’t the only one on the street. Jerking his black trenchcoat over his head, he crossed over, weaving around potholes.

 _Walk, do not run._ As if someone with a coat over his head wasn’t conspicuous enough.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I was wondering, how come your name’s Minion?” Reg asked, taking another cigarette out of a crumpled pack and lighting it.

Minion hesitated. Megamind probably wouldn’t like it if he kept talking about all this personal stuff, but what was the harm? It wasn’t like it was a real secret.

“It’s more of a title,” he said. “In our language, it’s really more like ‘meen-yahn’ which means ‘protector and guardian of this one.’”

“This one what?”

Minion shrugged. “I don’t know. Just ‘this one.’ The one I’m guarding.”

He looked at their polite yet confused faces. “Well, it makes sense in Ahrini. Sir’s just always called me that. My real name’s Niri, but Sir had trouble pronouncing his R’s for a while. We found out what ‘minion’ meant in English, and we thought it was sort of funny. Plus everyone else was calling me Minion by then so it stuck.”

Reg took a long thoughtful drag of his cigarette. Minion hoped Reg didn’t ask about Megamind’s name. He decided he better not mention Sir’s birth name was Amlin. Sir had once said, _I’ve got enough trouble with peabrains calling me Meg, I don’t want to have to put up with Lin, too._

But something else seemed to be on Reg’s mind. He pressed his spent cigarrette into the floor and said, “Curly, I think it’s time, don’t you?”

Curly became very engrossed in his foil hat. “Time for what?” he said, carefully taping on another piece.

“For you to give it back, man.” Curly glanced at Minion then back down again. “He’ll be mad.”

There was a distant shout outside. Minion turned in his bowl, listening. There was no real reason for the uneasiness that crawled across his dorsals, but maybe he ought to go take a look outside anyway. It worried him a little that Megamind wasn’t back yet.

He took a few steps toward the hall but he paused as Reg started speaking again.

“Naw, he won’t get mad,” Reg said. “If Curly found something you lost you’d be happy to have it back, right Minion?”

Puzzled, Minion nodded. Distractedly he peered down the dusty hall. The building wasn’t so big, but this far back it was hard to hear what was happening in the street. “Well, yeah. Did I drop something last night?”

“Come on, Curly, you’ve had it long enough,” said Reg. “Go on and give it back. You know they were looking for it.”

With another glance down the hall, Minion stifled a sigh and turned back to Reg and Curly, wondering what was so important. He was pretty sure he hadn’t dropped anything last night, but that was no excuse for rudeness.

With a nervous, hangdog look, Curly shuffled over to him and unwrapped a handkerchief.

Minion’s fins slowly clamped themselves to his sides at the sight of the tracking device. “Oh, there it is,” he said in a strained voice. _Is it recording everything? Pinpointing our location?_ “That...part that fell off. That thing. Fell right off my suit.” He gave Curly a brittle smile.

With care, he plucked the evil little thing off the handkerchief, hoping that maybe it was broken. No, damn, the little red light still glowed. “I’ll... reattach it right away.” Very important that whoever was listening on the other end not know that Minion knew about the device.

All he could think of was to get rid of it as soon as possible. Very, very quietly. “Can...I just...I need to...go in the other room,” he said. “Sort of...of private.”

Minion trotted into the hallway, thoughts screaming through his brain. _I have to find Sir! Throw this thing away or..._

Megamind crashed into him and bounced off the opposite wall. “Watch where you’re going!” Megamind said, managing to whisper and screech at the same time. “We have to...”

With their self-preservation firmly in mind, Minion immediately put him in a headlock and clapped a hand over his mouth. Megamind’s shock and rage at getting grabbed so roughly was a tangible feeling that travelled up his robotic arm and made one of his gears squeak but Minion hung on. He held Sir against his chest and held up the tracking device in front of Megamind’s furious green eyes.

Megamind froze in his grip, eyes bulging.

Minion carefully released him.

Megamind gaped at it, struggling to come to grips with the sudden appearance of this viper in their midst.

Shakily he used hand signals to communicate with Minion, a system they developed in the prison. _How? When? Where? WHO?_

 _Curly,_ Minion signed back. _Had it all this time._

Megamind’s head snapped around at the sound of more voices out in the street, coming closer.

 _They’re here,_ Megamind signed at his henchfish’s questioning look.

Minion started to sign back, _What do we..._

Curly and Reg appeared in the hallway. “Hey, man, did you get your little doohickey all...”

Megamind leaped over to him in a single bound, clapped a hand over his mouth, and shoved him back down the hall, past the startled Reg.

“Whoa, what’s up? What’s...” Reg’s voice petered out as Minion frantically made shushing gestures.

Puzzled, Reg cautiously followed after Megamind and Curly.

Minion stayed where he was. If the tracking device really did have a mic in it, it shouldn’t pick up any of the conversation from that far away and Megamind could explain the situation.

Megamind didn’t stop until they were back in the, for want of a better word, living room.

“When I take my hand away,” Megamind whispered, “do not say a word. Not one word. Nod if you understand.”

Curly gave a hesitant nod.

Megamind took half a step back. Close proximity to Curly was singeing his nose hairs. He breathed through his mouth. “That tracking device, you’ve had it the whole time?”

“Yeah, man, I thought I could listen in for ya in case any messages...”

Megamind made frantic shushing motions with his hands. Curly was speaking in his ordinary back-of-the-room voice, which could scare birds out of the trees.

Reg appeared in the doorway and was cautiously looking around toward the front of the building, where there seemed to be increasing activity.

Megamind clenched and unclenched his hands, wondering what in the hell Curly thought the tracking device was, but there was no time for deep philosophical discussions. He whispered, “Curly, that little ‘doohickey’ was made by the government. They may be listening!”

\- - - - - - - -

“Two more runners. Heading west,” Sparkle said into the communicator. They didn’t look much like either Megamind or Minion, but her orders were clear. All runners.

She watched as the two figures ran out onto the beach, followed closely by several agents. She frowned. They ran along the lakeshore, uselessly. What was the point? she thought. They couldn’t go into the lake and they must see Freezer Burn’s ice wall at the end of the beach. But even when more agents came out from between the buildings and blocked them, the runners dodged and whirled as if another way to escape would magically appear.

The agents drew their guns, made them raise their hands, brought them down.

Shaking her head, she floated higher.

\- - - - - - - -

Agent Pitt pulled one of the men upright and yanked off the man’s hat. “Uncover him,” he said, gesturing at the other suspect and another agent yanked back his red sweatshirt hood. These obviously were not the alien fugitives, but Corbin was being a complete dick.

“Kind of jumpy,” Pitt said. “Let’s see what you got.” He nodded at the FBI agents. They didn’t work with FBI too often, but at least these guys were on the same page. They didn’t hesitate or make any dumb protests about illegal searches. They opened the bums’ backpacks and spilled them out.

Two bongs, cigarette papers, and a ziploc bag with gray leaves in it fell onto the rocks.

Agent Feiffer shifted uneasily and said, “Hey, Neil, I don’t think we’re supposed to...”

Pitt shot his partner a warning look. Unlike the FBI, Feiffer never seemed to get the hang of how things really got done. Feiffer always made a fuss.

Pitt glared Feiffer down and then turned his attention back to the bums. “You having a little party, guys? Got some nice cells for party guys like you.”

The bums glanced at each other. “Not ours,” one of them mumbled.

“Really. You know, it doesn’t have to be you guys going in that cell. Could be the cell’s really for the other ones we’re looking for. See any aliens around here? And I don’t mean from south of the border.”

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Curly’s eyes and mouth widened. “For REAL?” he said in a whisper only slightly quieter than his speaking voice.

Megamind nodded grimly. “For real.”

To his surprise, Curly’s bristled face reformed into his usual cheerful smile. “Well, good thing I had my foil shields all set up,” the man said happily, waving his arm around at the pyramids hanging from the ceiling. “Blocks all the signals, man. Not to worry!”

Megamind’s mouth opened and closed. “Curly, the feds are here now," he sputtered. "They are outside, clearing the buildings! Can’t you hear?”

Curly cocked his head. There did seem to be more activity out there, but he wore a preoccupied look as if he were only half listening, and his brow wrinkled as he looked around at his mobiles. “Huh. That’s weird. One of the shields must be off.” Walking over to one of the dangling pyramids, he turned it around, peering at it. “Some foil fell off. I think I got some more that I can...” He began trundling over to his bed of rags.

Megamind grabbed his arm. “Forget the foil! It’s too late for foil! There has never been a worse time for foil! Just keep quiet! Can do that much? Can you keep quiet?” he hissed, glaring at Reg and then back at Curly. “I’ve got to figure out what to do with the tracking device. Do not. Say. A word.”

He went past Reg and returned to Minion, waiting and fidgeting out in the hall.

 _Smash it?_ Minion signed.

 _No,_ Megamind’s response was emphatic. He paced around in a circle, brain churning. The feds must not have a lock on the tracker’s location or else they would have come directly to Curly and Reg’s buidling. Maybe he should destroy it, or toss it. But what if Curly picked it up again? The feds would catch him and really make his life hell.

Maybe there was a chance he could still use it to his advantage. _Redirect. Send if off in a car,_ he signed. _Wild goose chase._

Minion nodded his body up and down. Megamind snatched the little device from him and ran down the hall to the back, Minion, Reg, and Curly trotting along behind.

“Or maybe some new paint for the wall pyramids, maybe that’s why...” Curly muttered to himself.

“Shhh! Geez, man, stop,” Reg whispered, casting an uneasy look at Minion’s huge back. He should have known there would be trouble. Getting involved, it always brought trouble.

“Worked pretty good so far.” Curly sighed.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Corbin strode up and down the current crop of the dregs of society. Or strode as well as he was able. There were so many holes and cracks in the pavement he had to be careful not to trip. This neighborhood needed some serious renovation, with a wrecking ball and a flamethrower.

He glared at the blank faces of the people in the line-up, but none of the bums would meet his eye. Questioning them had been pointless. Nobody saw nothin', and didn't know no aliens, neither.

Interference from radio signals at the Port Authority prevented them from pinpointing the exact location of the tracking device. Normally they could get to within about five feet, but the invisible signals fleeting around them reduced the accuracy by a significant amount. Still, Finney estimated that a sweep of squatter central would flush out their quarry.

“All hats off,” he snapped, yanking a faded Dallas Cowboys cap off a man’s head. He scowled at his agents as he strode up and down the line. “Take a good look at everyone. Is that so hard to remember? Megamind walked right by the cops wearing a goddam shawl, people. I want heads bare, faces visible.”

Agents ordered people to take off their hoods and hats, and even made a woman uncover her crying toddler.

Corbin snapped, “Psycho Delic, shouldn’t you be doing something?”

Face like stone, Psycho Delic stalked down the street, Agent Ross trailing along behind. “Hey! Megamind! Where are you?” he yelled, feeling like an idiot. His head throbbed. It was obvious that Corbin was just making him do busy work, to punish him for his failure to capture Megamind.

Corbin went back up the street. His earpiece squawked and he put his hand to it. “Yeah, Finney?”

“Just picked up Megamind’s voice. Sounds like he rejoined the group.”

Corbin looked around. “How far we have to go?” he asked Bates.

“Few more buildings. Searching the shacks now.”

The earpiece squawked again. “Pitt and Feiffer picked up two guys who say they know where Megamind is. Or at least where he spent the night.”

“Where?”

“Stand by. They weren’t too good at description. Pitt’s bringing them from the lakeside. They’ll point it out.”

\- - - - - - - -

Megamind looked out of a back window, but pulled back quickly. Men strolled along the alley and the backlot next door. He could hear a strange crackling sort of noise and guessed that Freezer Burn was at work somewhere out there still forming an ice wall around the neighborhood, somewhere behind those buildings.

Soon we’ll be boxed in, he thought, heart sinking. He closed his eyes and brought to mind what he knew of the neighborhood. He could visualize the streets they could take to get out of the area. If they could get to the pier, he could stash the tracking device on somebody’s car, or maybe a ship, preferably an out-going ship. Send Corbin on a trip across the lake, that’d be the ticket.

He signed to Minion. _Have to get past them. Where’s the van?_

Minion grimaced. _Back at the bar._

Megamind gritted his teeth. They’d be on foot. Unless they could steal one of the agents’ cars.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That idea even had a little flair, using one of the enemy’s vehicles.

Reg dropped a pack of cigarettes in the dust. Hastily he scooped them up again but when he pulled out his lighter, Megamind waved and scowled at him until Reg put it away. The agents might pick up the scent of a freshly lit cigarette.

He ran his free hand over his head, scowling. Reg and Curly needed to stay put. They would be fine as long as they did what the feds told them and kept their mouths shut.

 _Stay here,_ he mouthed at them.

Reg’s eyes darted around uncertainly. “What?” he whispered.

Megamind pulled his hand down his face, fuming, wondering how to communicate with them without going through an idiotic game of cha-rah-des. He'd have to give the tracking device back to Minion and take them aside for another tiresome conference.

Later he would remember that Curly bore a determined, intent look that was at odds with his normal appearance of happy befuddlement, but at the time Megamind had a number of pressing concerns and the significance of Curly’s change in demeanor didn’t register until it was too late.

A voice, distant but getting closer, echoed through the alley. “Hey, Megamind! Get your ass out here!”

The blood drained out of his face.

What with one thing and another he hadn’t had much time to think about Psycho Delic.

Only twelve hours ago he’d gotten three heavy doses of Psycho Delic’s drug cloud, and even his impressive healing abilities were having trouble expunging it.

Psycho Delic called out again. “Where are ya? Little runt.”

The voice was faint, muffled by distance, but Megamind had never felt such a powerful pull, or such revulsion, as if a rotted hand had reached out and grabbed him by the neck. He took one slow step down the hall.

He flinched when Minion placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up into the ichthyoid’s concerned face. Minion’s eyes shifted down briefly before coming back to look into Megamind’s face. Cautiously the other robotic hand signed,  _Why did you draw the de-gun?_

Megamind looked down at the de-gun, where he held it at waist level. He hadn’t even been aware of what he was doing. A wave of coldness ran down his back.

“Taking a look around,” Megamind mumbled, and clamped his lips together, looking down at little tracking device in his fist. He shouldn’t have spoken out loud. Maybe...maybe he could just... talk to Psycho Delic, just for a minute...

His eye twitched and bile rose in his throat. Or maybe shoot him. Set the de-gun to de-stroy and shoot at that grinning purple face until there was nothing left to shoot at. Loathing filled him. He felt as though he teetered on the edge of a cliff, with darkness below, threatening to swallow him.

Shaking, Megamind holstered the de-gun.  _Hold my hand,_ he signed.

Minion blinked.  _Say what?_

 _Just do it,_ Megamind signed frantically. _Don’t let me..._

Then Curly lunged at him, knocking him over into a pile of gunnysacks.


	30. Strange Angels

**_“Through the glass on the already closed set of doors, the killer machine stepped into view._ **

**_‘I have a plan,’ Dahl said._ **

**_‘Does it involve running?’ Hester asked.”_ **

_**-John Scalzi,**_ _**Redshirts** _

\- - - - - -

Megamind got a sudden close-up of Curly’s bulging eyes and bristly beard a split second before the man sent him tumbling into a pile of gunnysacks, left over from the old fish market days.

A cloud of rotting burlap exploded around him and he got a noseful of ancient fish odor. By the time Minion helped him to his feet and he got the dust out of his face, Curly was gone, but he could still hear Curly’s voice, shouting. “Run for it, man, hey, he’s makin’ a run for it, hurry! This way! You’re snoozin’ you’re losin’, man!”

That was when Megamind realized the tracking device was gone. Curly had taken it.

“You moron!” he whispered hoarsely. “You...you... idiot!”

He rounded on Minion and Reg, both of whom looked as bewildered as he felt. “Why didn’t you stop him?” he whispered, barely keeping his voice below a shriek. “They’ll kill him!”

Reg and Minion waved their arms helplessly and talked at once, furiously whispering. “I didn’t know he was gonna do that!” “I tried, Sir, but it happened so fast!” “...took off, man, I didn’t think he could even run...” “...grab him but he went around the...”

They all shut up as another voice and the sound of running footsteps reached them.

“A runner! Runner sighted! Repeat, suspect heading north, northwest...”

They pressed into a crouch against the wall as the shadows of running agents flitted by the window.

After the footsteps pounded away, they cautiously lifted their heads. Megamind blinked at the anger in Reg’s face.

“You got to get out of here,” Reg said. He pointed a surprisingly authoritative arm down the hall. “Side door over there.”

More footsteps echoed from the front of the building. Slower, more thoughtful agents were coming in.

“Get!” Reg whispered fiercely.

Megamind and Minion slipped out. They were forced to hide again in the next building to let another pair of agents go past.

It sounded like they were having a little talk with Reg, and they were not being very nice about it, either.

Megamind’s legs went weak and his throat tightened. He crouched down against the wall and covered his ears.

He didn’t want to hear anymore. He didn’t want to listen to them interrogating Reg, or think about what might be happening to Curly. These men who had let them into their home, these men who had nothing, and now were paying for their act of kindness.

No one was safe. Not when he was around. He was poison.

And he could tell exactly where Psycho Delic was. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. He knew the other super was getting farther away, stalking down the the street, occasionally shouting. Megamind could almost hear the words in his head. _Where are you, you little snot?_

He was definitely going to grill Minion further about the possible psychic abilities of his species. Not psychic? It sure felt like some kind of twisted mind meld.

Waves of heat passed over him as if he were running a fever. Anguish over his inability to do anything for Curly and Reg, fury over being unwillingly linked to Psycho Delic, the emotional overload threatened to consume him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the side of his head against the cool metal of Minion’s leg for a brief eternity.

Minion gave him a gentle shake of the shoulder. Megamind looked up at him in despair.

The ichthyoid’s face was grim. _It’s over. Let’s go,_ he signed.

Megamind scrubbed a hand over his nose. _It’s over._ Minion understood why he was having a minor meltdown. Minion’s presence was the only thing that kept him from going after those bastards, de-gun blazing.

The feds had carted Reg off to go with the other people they’d rounded up. Or beaten him. No, probably not that. Even with his hands clamped over his ears he probably would have heard the sounds.

Megamind didn’t think he could handle the truth just then, so he didn’t ask.

Reg could have easily saved himself trouble by ratting them out, but he hadn’t.

At least Minion didn’t bother with ‘I’m sure they’ll be okay’, ‘nothing to worry about’ or any other such tripe.

He couldn’t hear Psycho Delic, or even sense his presence anymore, though the terrible compulsion to seek him out and destroy him burned underneath Megamind’s ribcage like a banked fire, waiting to spring to life again.

Maybe if he ignored it long enough it would go away.

There was nothing to do but press on. Megamind set his jaw and let Minion hoist him to his feet.

\- - - - - - - - - -

At headquarters, Finney frowned as he tried to decipher all the racket. There was a lot of shuffling around, furtive footsteps, then the sound of what might have been a brief struggle and someone exhaling sharply as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him, then some crazy person yelling.

“Don’t we have a lock on it yet?” he snapped.

The other techs shook their heads. “No, too much static from the pier. But tracker’s definitely moving. Aren’t they done clearing the buildings? Can’t be that hard.”

“Agent Corbin, look for runners,” Finney said.

“Where?” Corbin’s crackly voice responded.

“Still don’t have a lock. Just look,” Finney said impatiently. “Friggin’ interference,” he grumbled. He’d told them to update the system how many times?

\- - - - - - - -

“Hi yaaa!” Curly shouted, kicking out the boards in the window. He jammed his foil hat more firmly on his head and climbed through, running into the next building.

Man, this was fun!

He wondered how the feds had tracked them down. He suspected that his foil hats and shields hadn’t quite done the job of deflecting the feds’ sonar, but he would make it up to Code Blue. Code Blue was one smart hombre, he’d know exactly what Curly was doing, he would know instantly what had to be done.

He’d watched, fascinated, as Code Blue talked with his buddy in that secret sign language. They were figuring out how to escape, he was sure of it, and Curly knew exactly how to help. Make a big distraction, that was the ticket.

He hadn’t run out into the street, of course. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t stupid.

It kind of slowed him down some, having to run from building to building, because there were lots of bricks and leftover timber and people’s sleeping bags and stuff, but there were plenty of windows and, in some cases, big holes in the wall, for him to run through.

Plus all the stuff he dodged around sort of slowed up the guys chasing him, too.

He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. Yikes, it wasn’t slowing ‘em down quite as much as he thought. Plus he could see in the gaps off to his side that a few of these guys were running ahead of him, trying to cut him off.

Wheezing, he clambered over another windowsill.

A man tackled him and he hit the dirt. He coughed and spat while the fed pinned him face down.

“Aw, nooo,” Curly complained. “My hat! Hey, anybody see my hat?” His head felt cold.

Squinting, he tried to look around for it, but all he could see was a bunch of feet surrounding him. He craned his neck but couldn’t see beyond anybody’s knees.

He was hauled upright. The first face he saw looked like it had gotten up close and personal with a chain saw.

“Jiminy Christmas, man, you might want to see a doctor ‘bout that lip. Don’t it dry your teeth out?”

The man didn’t seem to appreciate the advice. Curly looked around at the group of agents in fascination.

“Wow, you all really do got black coats and sunglasses,” he said. “Is that, like, the uniform?”

One of the agents handed the tracking device to the scarred dude. He glared at Curly, then jerked his chin at the other agents.

Two of them grabbed Curly’s arms and pulled him into the building directly behind them.

They passed into shadow, the warmth of the sun disappearing like it’d been cut off.

The scarred dude came up to him and got right in his face, cracking his knuckles. “Where is he?” he said in the coldest voice Curly had ever heard.

Well, if there was one thing Curly knew, it was you didn’t tell The Man anything if you could help it. “Where’s who, man? I think you got the wrong...”

The scarred dude belted him in the stomach.

Curly tried to wrap his arms around himself but the other guys had too tight a grip on his arms.

Even over the sound of his own gagging, Curly heard a clean, snickety sort of noise which drew his attention.

Scarface had a knife in his hand, a big one. The big brick-faced guy on the right took hold of Curly’s hand and held it up. The scarred dude grabbed Curly’s pointer finger and laid the knife at the spot where it joined his hand.

“Next time, I use this,” the rat bastard said.

“Hey, not cool, man, not cool,” Curly gasped. Sweating, he tried to think of a way to stall, but the hot pain in his belly was slowing him down. He couldn’t take his eyes off the knife. This dude had _issues._

The man said, “You think anyone’s going to care what happens to some smelly old bum? I’m only going to ask you once more. Where is Megamind?”

Inspiration struck. “Say, you know what, I think they were tryin’ to get to the beach, man, he’s part fish, you know. They were gonna swim for it.”

Scarface ran his thumb along the edge of the blade. “Do I need to tell you what’ll happen if you’re lying?” Curly shook his head hard. “The beach, man, seriously.” His heart sank. He was a positive thinker, but right now it was hard to see if anything good would happen to get him out of this little ol’ problemo, but he’d just have to hope for the best. Maybe the guy was just trying to scare him. He sure hoped so, otherwise Curly was gonna have a hard time with missing fingers.

Scarface ordered the other agents. “Sweep the lakeshore again.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

Megamind and Minion crouched behind a pile of crates in an alley, studying the ice wall. Not everyone had gone haring after Curly. Several agents still patrolled the wall. None of them were visible at the moment, but he could hear voices on the other side.

 _We can shoot the wall, make a run for it,_ Megamind signed.

_They’ll hear it._

_Hoist me over, then haul yourself over._

_They’ll see us._

_Why am I the only one coming up with ideas?_ Megamind signed angrily.

The faint crackle of a communicator almost directly over their heads made him stop in mid-gesture. Minion’s eyes grew round with alarm.

They looked up.

Sparkle hovered overhead, long sleeves rippling in the breeze.

Looking them in the eye, she put her hand to her ear and murmured, “Nothing yet. Standby.”

Megamind’s lungs felt like they were squeezing shut. He and Minion stared at her like headlight-frozen rabbits.

 _She didn’t turn us in. Why didn’t she turn us in?_ Megamind thought. He would have very much liked to consult Minion on this important matter, but his hands had turned to bricks.

Sparkle looked at them from under her eyelids, face impassive. Slowly she rotated, gazing out and around as if she were scanning the area.

 _I should dehydrate her,_ he thought, but she was above the roofline and probably was visible to at least a few agents. Someone might see the shot. And she’d said “Standby.” Whoever was on the other end of her communicator would be expecting a response.

Besides, she hadn’t told on them.

This was not _necessarily_ a good sign, but it was a definite leaning in that general direction.

Of course, this caused a new set of troubling possibilities to worry over. Maybe she wanted to capture them by herself. Or kill them. But she would have blasted them by now. Or scare them. Doing a pretty good job of that last one.

Maybe she wanted to make a deal. But about what? What the hell did she want?

Sparkle rotated until she was facing them again, then floated down into the alley, her boots settling onto the ground with a soft crunch.

Rising from his crouch, he searched her face, looking for clues as to whether or not they should fight or talk or run. He turned sideways away from her, and carefully pulled aside the edge of his trenchcoat so he could draw the de-gun fast, if needed.

She raised her glowing hands and curled them into claws. “Hands where I can see them,” she said.

He let the edge of the coat fall and carefully lifted his hands. Okay, so she was no fool.

Her head jutted forward like a bull’s and her lips were pressed together. Her flowing green sleeves brushed against the ground.

She did not have a friendly look.

But she hadn’t turned them in.

He held onto that hope very cautiously and recalled what he knew of her: power of flight, employed by the Department of Paranormal Investigations for six years, had the ability to produce massive energy blasts of unknown composition, but this was largely untested. She rarely displayed this unique talent due to a psychological block stemming from past trauma. Occasionally she lost control, and once caused a three-story warehouse to explode.

She hadn’t turned them in. But she could. At any moment.

_First Curly, now Sparkle. My life is in the hands of crazy people._

Sparkle took a step closer, her brow wrinkling as she looked him up and down. “You really are just a kid,” she said, her voice rising high, as if she were either disappointed or surprised.

He rose to his full five foot, two-and-three-quarter inch height and lifted his chin. “You were expecting someone taller? Age is overrated, madam,” he said coldly. _That’s it, I’m growing some facial hair. No more of this baby face._

Her nose wrinkled at ‘madam,’ just as he’d intended. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “Why didn’t you kill him?” she asked in a low voice.

Somehow Megamind didn’t need to ask who ‘him’ was.

“It wasn’t... necessary,” he said.

Her face twisted. She bared her teeth and her eyes closed to slits. A tear ran down her cheek, and he noticed that a slight bruise was darkening there.

“You should have!” she said, choking out the words. Her eyes began to glow, growing brighter and darker as if she were attached to a dimmer switch. She opened and closed her hands, then rubbed her wrist over her face. The tear sizzled away at the touch of her hand.

 _How is she doing that?_ he couldn’t help wondering. _How does her cheek stay cool but her hand heat up?_

She stuck her jaw out and glared at him. “Don’t you think it’s ‘necessary’ now?” she said, waving her arm around as if to encompass the sweep of the manhunt taking place. Sparks flew off her arm and skittered along the brick wall.

“I’m not a murderer,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Why don’t you do it? You’re closer to him than I am.”

Sparkle’s face twisted with fury and turned beet red. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she hissed. “What did you hear?” Her eyes glowed white again, and so did her fists. A strange hum seemed to rise from her, just on the cusp of hearing.

Minion tugged on his shoulder. “Sir, don’t make her mad,” he whispered. “Maybe you should let me...”

Megamind shook him off. He felt as if he had plunged into deep waters and didn’t know how to swim, with sharks circling, and it was exhilirating.

Here was an opponent! Here was someone he could negotiate with, a silver road of confrontation laid out before him, he was completely ad-libbing, but finally here was a chance to use his wits, an invigorating change from all the skulking and hiding.

As long as she didn’t suddenly blast him, of course.

He took a step forward, though the heat rising off her made his eyebrows start to crisp. “You must see him all the time. You work together, don’t you?”

A strange look passed over her face that he couldn’t interpret. “Yes,” she said. “But you had him. You could have done it,” she said. The corners of her mouth turned down and she looked close to tears again.

Looking at her bruised cheek again, he made a guess. “Why do you want him dead? Because he gave you that shiner?”

She was silent for a moment. “Walked into a door,” she said levelly.

He nodded. Here was a code he was familiar with. “I used to walk into doors all the time, when I was in shool,” he said, watching her carefully. Her face was a grim mask, but she was listening. “There was this...other boy who decided to make my life a living hell. To make an example of me, I suppose, with his superior strength. But whenever my father...” He grimaced. “I mean ...whenever anyone asked, I’d say I hit my head on the desk or something.”

Her eyes lost their deadly glow and turned normal human brown. She rubbed her elbow and muttered, “Yeah. Or the corner of a cupboard. Or tripped,” She gave a short, harsh laugh. “Stupid thing for me to say. I can fly, how can I trip?”

He resisted the urge to look up and down the alley. He wasn’t up to enduring this little heart-to-heart for too long. The sooner he figured out her intentions, the better, before a couple of feds came strolling around the corner.

What were they going to do next, start sharing their hopes and dreams?

He wasn’t thrilled with revealing his own emotional scars, but it could help her decide to let them go, and escape herself. He quite liked that idea. It would weaken Corbin, stripping him of one of his allies.

“I think the hatred I had for myself, that was as bad as the physical pain,” he said. He didn’t even have to make anything up. The pain of that self-loathing and the feelings of helplessness from the old shool days had faded, but they were still there, tucked away and safely contained.

At his side, Minion shifted the bulky robotic suit and turned in his bowl to look at him. Megamind sensed the ichthyoid’s compassion like a warm glow, but he kept his gaze on Sparkle. There simply was no time for any more sharing of hurt feelings.

Megamind winced as the memories of a more recent, more savage beating flashed through his mind. Far worse physical damage than anything that brat Wayne Scott had ever put him through, but strangely, the beating from the feds hadn’t traumatized him the way the rejection of his classmates had.

Odd, once he thought about it. Maybe he just had too much scar tissue on his soul now, or maybe it was because he’d fought back and freed himself. The curative powers of using Corbin’s own gun against him could not be underestimated.

He touched the side of his jaw. “Corbin hits hard, doesn’t he? Believe me, I know,” he said.

Sparkle rocked back and forth, clutching her long green sleeves. “This was a mistake,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

Megamind felt sweat break out on his face. What was she deciding? Shouldn’t have done what? He was sympathetic to her plight but he had his own plight to worry about. Clearly she wanted to escape Corbin, but she didn’t seem entirely committed to the task. If it came down to choosing between him and Minion or her, then he would choose him and Minion.

Keeping his eyes on her, he lowered his hand to the holster. This time she didn’t seem to notice that he was reaching for the de-gun.

Minion made a nervous little squeak. Megamind shot him a glare and the ichthyoid clamped his hands over his containment unit where his mouth was.

His fingertips brushed the handle.

Sparkle’s communicator crackled, making all three of them start. Agent Corbin sounded quite peeved. “Sparkle, what’s your position?” he barked. “Are you even airborne? What the hell are you doing?”

Sparkle grabbed at the little device in her ear. “Um. Just. Checking. Checking on the south side,” she said in a tight voice.

“Get your ass moving already! Get over to the lakeshore and help with the sweep.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, and clicked off the communicator.

She and Megamind exchanged a look of complete understanding. _Corbin is a dirtbag._

Megamind realized his fingers still touched the de-gun.

She gave him a cold, calculating look, and he knew that she knew he was thinking about shooting her.

She said, “If you dehydrated me, then he would take me back, no questions asked. He thinks I’m a useless idiot anyway. I’d be off the hook.”

Megamind swallowed hard. “Er. Yes?” he said. “I suppose so.” His heart pounded in his ears.

“Or if I turned you in now, he’d be pleased. Happy. He’d be good to me again.” Her lip stretched into a sneer. “For a while.” Her face hardened. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Er. No? Of course not,” he said, sweat trickling down his back. It wasn’t just the heat radiating off her. These waters were really deep, with deadly undertows.

She chewed on her lip, and became silent again. She appeared to be mulling over a large number of things.

What if she asked him to shoot her? Did she know about the de-stroy setting? Was she THAT desperate to escape Corbin? He would never agree to such a request, but he felt sick at the thought that she might ask.

He tugged at his collar. Perhaps he ought to contribute something to the conversation before she reached a conclusion that he might not like. “If you let us go I promise I will do much worse than kill him. I will _ruin_ him.” He raised his hand and clenched his fist.

She gave him a thoughtful look. To his immense relief, she nodded.

“You can use your communicator to lead them astray,” he said.

“No,” she said with finality. “No more talking. He twists every word I...” Her face contorted with fury. She yanked the communicator out of her ear, flung it to the ground, and stomped on it. “They’re always telling us not to talk to suspects,” she said. “Builds empathy. I shouldn’t have talked with you. And now I can’t go back.”

She jerked her chin toward the ice wall. “Go. Not as many agents that way. And soon there won’t be any. I’ll draw them off.”

A ghost of smile tugged at her mouth. She took a deep breath, like the intake of a furnace and her eyes and hands glowed again. A wisp of steam escaped her lips.

They backpedaled. The temperature had shot up a few hundred degrees.

An extremely powerful super who hadn’t spent any time working on controlling her powers, on making adjustments and fine-tuning her abilities, could result in a very messy situation.

“Maybe you should think this through a little more,” Megamind said, waving a hand in her line of sight, but she didn’t seem to see him anymore. She was almost too bright to look at. “You can just fly away. You’re not even collared, they can’t track you, can they? I’m not sure it’s such a...”

She lifted off the ground, bright yellow sparks skittering off the alley’s walls. Megamind and Minion yelped as sparks landed on them and they slapped them away.

She shot into the sky, trailing streaks of energy like a giant firework.

“Uh oh,” Minion muttered.

There was an explosion that shook the ground.

They crouched behind the crate pile, the only cover in the alley. It wasn’t even big enough, Minion’s shoulder stuck out, but the agents running past them were too preoccupied to take a good look.

Megamind uncovered his head. “Well, at least they’re going to be kept busy for a while,” he said shakily.

They ran toward the eight-foot high barrier. Megamind drew the de-gun to make a hole.

Suddenly a tidal wave of light shot across the ice wall.

“Look out!” Minion shouted, and landed on him.

The wall exploded, sending shards of melting ice in all directions. Ice chunks ricocheted off Minion’s back.

In the distance they heard a man screaming, “My wall! You blew up my wall, you crazy bi.... AAAAAHH!” Another explosion rocked the ground.

“Freezer Burn,” Minion muttered.

“That’d be my guess,” Megamind said, crawling out from under Minion’s bulk.

Once a fuse is lit there is nothing you can do but run for it, so they did.


	31. A Hero Will Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Why can't we for once have a meeting in Starbucks?" -Eoin Colfer, "The Lost Colony"

The ground shook again as another car exploded.

“She’s gone crazy,” Bates muttered.

Corbin shook his head and ran his hand through his singed hair. “No, if she’d cracked, the whole block’d be up in flames.” He scowled. She was aiming. One of those plasma blasts had gotten close to giving him a hotfoot he would never have recovered from. Her main targets had, so far, been the ice wall that Freezer Burn constructed and their cars.

She wasn’t just randomly firing, she was helping Megamind get away.

They’d taken cover in one of the buildings. Corbin looked around at the crouching men, the agents, Freezer Burn, Psycho Delic. Most of the bums had scattered, though Megamind’s pals hadn’t gotten away. Reg and Curly, both cuffed, sat on the floor with their backs against a pile of concrete blocks.

Agent Feiffer’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “What now, Agent Corbin?”

Psycho Delic muttered, “How ‘bout you go out there and show her who’s boss?”

Corbin filed that away as an insolence to be mulled over and punished later. “Stand by,” he said into the comm. Corbin ran his gaze around the other men, judging their capabilities. “Freezer Burn, I’ll need you to create a diversion.”

“What? Me?!” Freezer Burn’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Go out there? Did you see her blow apart my wall?”

“Forget the stupid wall. If you can ice her hands, that’ll disable her, at least for a minute, then we can take her out.”

“But it’s so hot. And I’m all dried out.”

“It’s not even 70 degrees,” Corbin snapped. “And you got a whole damn Great Lake to feed off, right across the street. Lots of humidity.” Freezer Burn created ice by drawing on his own body’s water reserves and the moisture in the immediate environment.

“Yeah, but...”

A flash of light sent them ducking for cover. Outside, a section of asphalt mushroomed. A few moments later gravel pattered down. Someone must have poked his head out of one of the buildings. Sparkle was keeping them penned in.

Corbin glared at the quivering Freezer Burn. Give him Snow Queen or Ice-Capade any day. Freezer Burn would get one more chance to prove his worth. If not, well, Corbin would get to shop for an ice-powered replacement. He hardened his voice, allowing no room for any more argument. “You better grow a pair, right now. On my signal, run out and hit her quick. Even if you miss...”

Freezer Burn made a gurgling noise.

Corbin held up a warning finger. “...even if you miss, and I know you won’t, it’ll distract her. We’ll be right behind you.”

Bates and another agent pushed Freezer Burn to the entrance.

Corbin touched his communicator. “All agents, ready weapons, move into position, get a visual on Sparkle.”

Every agent in the room drew his gun.

Curly turned to Reg, his eyes wide. “Hey, are they gonna shoot that girl? Reg, I think they’re gonna shoot her! They can’t do that!”

“Shhh!” Reg hissed, shooting a nervous look at the agents. He wasn’t too happy about it either, but it wasn’t like they could do anything. Besides, that girl was nuts.

Corbin stared intently out at the street. Smoke and dust drifted around a series of new potholes. A shadow glided past overhead. That must be her. “On my signal,” he murmured. “Freezer Burn goes first. Be prepared to move out immediately. Fire at will.”

He nodded at Bates, who put one hand on Freezer Burn’s shoulder and got ready to shove, if necessary.

Freezer Burn, eyes wild, thought about icing Bates and making a run for it, but he caught the look in Corbin’s face. He slumped in Bates’s grip. If he tried that, the agents wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him, and he wasn’t any more bullet proof than Sparkle. Quaking in his blue and white boots, he whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. He lifted his hands and Corbin felt a cool breeze waft over his cheek as Freezer Burn activated his power.

And then a young man’s voice boomed cheerfully across the sky. “There a problem here, miss?”

There was a startled female yelp from above, and then a tremendous explosion high above the rooftops. The afteraffects sent shafts of light through the windows, making everyone cover their eyes. There was a big splash as something plummeted into the lake, followed by a rumble as a small tidal wave crashed onto the rocky shore.

The agents looked at each other, then hurried outside. Even Freezer Burn forgot his terror and cautiously stepped out behind them. Water ran down the street, filling up the potholes. Corbin scanned the sky, wondering what had happened. There was no sign of Sparkle.

Metro Man appeared overhead, paused in the air, looking around with a scowl. He disappeared behind the buildings again, and there was a splash as another small tidal wave crashed through the alleys and extinguished the burning cars.

The bums and agents came out to watch Metro Man soaring into the sky again. He flew up higher and higher, circling around in a widening arc. Then he touched down in the middle of the street. There was a ragged cheer from the homeless, and even a couple of agents joined in.

Metro Man wrung water out of his cape. When Corbin walked over to him, the hero flipped his wet hair back, ruffling it out. There was a huge hole burned into his shirtfront, and the edges of the fabric were blackened, but his massive chest was unscathed. Corbin took out his badge and identified himself.

Metro Man flashed a wide smile. “Afternoon, sir!” he said. “Thought I could be of assistance.”

“Where’s the culprit?”

Metro Man’s smile faded and he shook his head. “She got away. Her energy blasts were a lot stronger than I thought. Took me by surprise. She knocked me into the lake, and by the time I got into the air again, I didn’t see her anywhere.” Ruefully he brushed at the soot on what was left of his suit. “My suit didn’t hold up so good either.”

A female voice in the crowd shouted “Wooooo!” and there was a smattering of applause. Metro Man heard one woman whisper “Too bad she didn’t burn it all off,” followed by some giggling and a muted argument over his age. He felt his cheeks get hot but he threw a sideways look towards them, and cocked an eyebrow just to let them know he could hear every word. This also seemed to be a big hit, and it didn’t seem to faze them like he’d hoped. He tuned them out as best he could and refocused on Agent Corbin.

“I suggest you go look for her immediately. She’s gone rogue," said Corbin.

Metro Man’s eyebrows went up. “Gone rogue?”

“I’m the Acting Director of the Department,” he said. “Conducting a joint operation with the FBI.” He looked around, gesturing the other agents on the street. “We’re attempting to capture Megamind, and now we have another problem. Would you be willing to assist us in apprehending him, Minion, and the girl? We could use all the help we can get.”

“You said she went rogue. That means she’s an agent?"

“One of our specialists. Can’t imagine why she turned.”

Psycho Delic snickered in the back. Corbin shot him a glare that should have burned him into the nearest wall.

Metro Man looked at the purple man, who gave him a long, slow grin. “Uh...sure. Be glad to,” Metro Man said tearing his gaze back to Corbin. “I took a good look around, but I’m afraid the flying girl escaped, and I didn’t see Megamind either. Is he still in the area?”

“No, I’m sure he’s long gone by now. Her name’s Sparkle. She helped him get away.”

A shout came from behind Corbin. “They were gonna kill her!”

Metro Man looked over at Curly, splashing through the puddles toward them. Corbin scowled and gestured impatiently at his agents. Two of them moved quickly to intercept Curly.

Metro Man gave Corbin a startled look. “Is that true?” Corbin gritted his teeth, angry that everyone had been so busy gawking at the hero they hadn’t minded the prisoners. “We were in a tight spot. Had no reason to believe she wouldn’t have killed us. Not all of us are invulnerable, son.”

The agents were dragging Curly away. “These are bad dudes, Metro Man, bad dudes!” he cried. “He was gonna cut off my finger!”

Metro Man’s eyes sharpened.

“He’s crazy,” said Corbin.

“Wait a minute, fellas, please,” Metro Man said, floating over the wet street toward them.

The agents stopped hauling Curly away. Curly shook his shoulders in an attempt to straighten his coat and gave them an indignant look before turning to Metro Man.

Metro Man nodded. “Hey there, friend. Who tried to cut off your finger?”

“Him, over there,” Curly said, jerking his chin at Corbin. “Scarface.”

Corbin strode around the flooded potholes. “I would never do a thing like that.”

“He did too!” Curly cried indignantly. “Said if I didn’t tell where Code Blue was, he’s gonna cut me!”

Metro Man’s brows wrinkled. “Code Blue? Megamind?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Curly nodded vigorously. “He’s my friend, man, I don’t rat out my friends.”

Rage was a barely banked fire in Corbin’s eyes. “He’s obviously confused. Can you really put any stock in what some crazy person says? He’s drunk.”

Curly’s mouth dropped open. “I ain’t drunk! I don’t drink! Metro Man, you gotta listen, Code Blue’s the bridge, man, he’s gonna bring in the new age...”

“They threatened me too, Metro Man,” Reg said suddenly. “They hit me and shoved me, and...”

“There! See?” Curly yelled.

“This isn’t anything to concern a young hero,” Corbin said in a voice like steel. “Both of these men are suspected of harboring known fugitives, loitering, and being in illegal possession of government property.”

“You mean that little doohickey? He’s got it in for us, man, I didn’t steal nothin’, and that was a recording device, he was spying.”

“Very expensive surveillance equipment, and it’s perfectly legal.”

Metro Man looked from Corbin to the suspects, then he did something truly brave. “Sir, I don’t believe you are making a legal arrest,” he said. “I respectfully request that you let them go.”

“I don’t think so. They are in my custody.”

“Then let me take them to the nearest police precinct. They can be held there without fear.”

Corbin glared at him. “Are you accusing me of abusing suspects? Just on their word?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Corbin stepped closer to the young hero. “What are you going to do about it?” he said quietly. “Beat me up if I don’t follow along with your little agenda?”

“Oh, no, sir, I’d never do that, sir.” Metro Man shook his head, frowning, as if the very idea was repellent.

“Good.” Corbin smiled. He thought so. This kid’s a real Boy Scout.

“But I would file a complaint with the Inspector General, and the Internal Affairs office, and I’ll have to consult with my parents’ lawyer to see what other action needs to be taken.” Metro Man folded his arms over his chest.

They looked at each other, faces expressionless.

Corbin clenched and unclenched his fist. A Boy Scout with some legal pull. “Which precinct will you be taking them to?” Corbin asked.

Metro Man heard sirens in the distance. He didn’t need his super hearing to tell they were coming closer, everyone could hear that cops were on the way, drawn by the explosions. “How ‘bout I turn them over to the officers coming along here?” Metro Man said, feeling a funny little knot in his stomach.

Metro Man didn’t normally feel fear, not like other people did, but this knot in his stomach was the kind of thing that came up whenever he did something his dad didn’t approve of. Apprehension. Anxiety. The nagging feeling that he wasn’t being a good boy. Good, decent boys trusted authority figures and obeyed the rules.

But Metro Man had learned that sometimes, law enforcement officers didn’t always follow the rules. He respected cops, and knew they faced danger every day, but they were only human. Bullies could hide behind badges.

\- - - - - - -

At the police station Metro Man's state of undress caught a lot more sideways female glances, creating minor casualties. Officer Hollins ran into a door and one of the dispatchers almost sprained her wrist tripping over a wastebasket.

He borrowed a coat from Sergeant Gerard, the biggest guy on the force. It barely covered his bare chest and he still accidentally ripped the sleeves but at least he was decently covered, once he got the buttons closed. 

He sat down with Reg and Curly, and made sure there was a prisoners’ rights advocate there to record their conversation when he asked them to tell the full story of what had happened. It took a long time, mostly because Curly kept excitedly interrupting about how the blue people were going to usher in a new age of peace and harmony, but with the help of Reg, they eventually got through it.

Afterwards, Metro Man called his parents’ lawyer and asked her for a real big favor. To take on Reg and Curly’s case.

She was a hard sell and strongly advised him to leave it to the public defender, but after some sweet-talking on his part, she agreed to send one of her clerks to the station to get a copy of their statements. “This doesn’t mean I can take their case,” she warned him. “Lord Scott is going to wonder about these extra fees, Wayne. I don’t do pro bono.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ll talk to him. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Tolliver.” He hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. His father would not like this at all, using up their lawyer’s precious time for charity work for a couple of homeless guys.

\- - - - - - -

Megamind hurried through the alleys. He’d caught a glimpse of Metro Man flying by, on his way to investigate all those explosions, no doubt, and the sighting added extra urgency to his movements. He cocked his head, listening. “The explosions have stopped,” he murmured.

“Maybe she got away,” Minion said uncertainly.

Megamind’s lips tightened. “Maybe.” Or maybe Mr. Goody Two-shoes had knocked her out of the sky and delivered her right back into the hands of her abuser.

There was nothing they could do. He’d told her to take off, but did she listen?

This was why he hated getting to know people. If he didn’t keep up the persona of pure ee-vil he ended up _caring._

They hurried on their way, slipping from one shadowed alley to the next. As Megamind turned the corner that would take them back to their van, they came face to face with Iggy, the man who had arranged their fateful meeting with Bruce Otto.

Iggy bore a pained look on his face, as if he’d spent the night in a pile of garbage in a drugged stupor, which, in fact, he had. Having just regained consciousness, he was making his shuffling way home.

Iggy peered at them short-sightedly, then stiffened. His bloodshot eyes widened.

Megamind narrowed his own eyes as a suspicion took hold.

Staggering back, Iggy managed to force his wobbling limbs into a low-speed jog, back the way he’d come.

The suspicion morphed into certainty.

“Seize him,” Megamind said.

Minion shot out one of his retractable arms and snagged him by the neck of his scuffy jacket. Iggy yelped and wriggled, but Minion held a chunk of his shirt, too, and the henchfish tightened his grip, twisting the clothing so that his prey couldn’t slip out. Iggy scrabbled at the nearest wall and dragged his feet, but Minion easily reeled him in.

“You don’t seem very happy to see us, Iggy,” Megamind said in a cold voice. “Don’t you want to know what happened at our meeting with Bruce Otto?”

“I don’t... it’s just, I got stuff to do. An appointment,” Iggy mumbled. He reeked of fear.

“No one else knew we would be at Lucky Jack’s,” said Megamind. “When lo and behold, we are targeted, and attacked.”

“I didn’t do it, I swear, I don’t even know Psycho Delic.” Iggy’s mouth snapped shut and he swallowed hard. He never was at his best in the morning.

Minion growled, “You set us up.”

Iggy grimaced. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Megamind’e eyebrows shot up and he pressed a hand to his chest. “Me? Hurt you? You _wound_ me, Iggy. But just out of curiosity, I wonder what Bruce Otto would say if he knew you were secretly working for his competitor. Kind, gentle soul that he is, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Iggy whimpered, “Oh no, please, no, don’t tell him. I’ll do whatever you want. Here, just lemme...” He fumbled in his jacket.

Minion grabbed his wrist and yanked hard. Iggy wailed, “It’s your money, man! I’m just givin’ it back!”

Megamind frowned at the folded bill in Iggy’s fist. “That’s a five,” he said. “I gave you a twenty. Do you really think it will make up for your vile act of betrayal?”

Iggy patted at his coat with his free hand. “It’s here somewhere.”

A sudden, terrible realization wiped Megamind’s sneer off his face. He jabbed his hands into his own pockets, his coat, pants, and shirt, and he even looked down his shirt, which was a stupid and desperate act. He would have noticed if a great big wad of cash fell inside his shirt. “Minion, did you take that roll of cash off me last night?” he asked.

Minion drew a sharp breath. “Oh no. No, I didn’t. Don’t tell me you...”

“Lost it,” Megamind groaned, and put his hands over his head. “The whole forty-one thousand.”

Iggy whimpered, “Oh Jesus, oh shit, I didn’t take it, man.”

Megamind’s shoulders slumped. There was no telling where it had fallen out. His marvelous, two-pronged plan Operation: Frame Agent Corbin Like We Framed Justin Henkler was in ruins. They had nothing to buy illegal contraband to plant on him, and no time to regain their loss. It had taken weeks to steal.

“Search him,” Megamind said dully, but without any real hope. He seriously doubted that Iggy could have picked his pocket.

Minion grabbed at Iggy’s ankles, preparing to turn him upside down and shake him out.

“Gently,” Megamind snapped. Iggy’s face was so pale he looked like he was going to puke. Megamind wasn’t concerned with this dingbat’s well being, it was entirely because he didn’t want to put up with the stench.

Grumbling, Minion set Iggy down and turned out all his pockets, finding an empty cigarrette pack, a cell phone, and the twenty dollar tip that Megamind had given him, as well as the dehydrated park bench, but that was all.

Megamind worked his jaw and stared at nothing in particular.

Iggy clasped his hands together, driven into further terror by Megamind’s silence. He glanced at the glowering Minion, but found no sympathy. Maybe Megamind was thinking about telling Minion to break his legs, or worse. “I had to do it,” he said. “I had to tell Psycho Delic. He made me do it. He’s got this power, this purple smoke, it’s the sweetest thing you ever tried.”

Megamind felt a hole open somewhere under his ribs, and his breathing grew harsh.

Iggy searched Megamind’s face, desperate for some sign of understanding. “Yeah, you know what I mean, don’t you? You got some of his haze, right?”

Megamind took half a step back.

Iggy reached out a hand. “It’s in your eyes. I can tell,” he said.

Minion tightened his grip on Iggy’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you shut up.”

Iggy grimaced and pried helplessly at the metal hand. “He hooks you in,” he whispered.

Megamind drew the de-gun and fired.

Minion looked at the little cube lying in the dirt, then back at Megamind, a concerned wrinkle between his brows.

Megamind shoved the de-gun back into the holster, his hand barely shaking, and turned his back. “We need to focus, Minion. Right now we need to get our vehicle back. Everything else... will have to wait.” Megamind went down the alley. Minion sighed and hurried after him.

They peered around the corner, where their van was getting hooked to the back of a tow truck. Two police officers chatted with the tow truck driver. A group of ne’er-do-wells shared cigarettes under the awning of a quickie loan shop. Down the block, a pot-bellied man was hosing off the sidewalk of Lucky Jack’s bar, occasionally splashing the yellow police tape criss-crossing over the shattered entrance.

“Rats,” Minion muttered. “Well, there’s plenty of other cars around. We can take our pick.”

Megamind glared at the cops. The last twenty-four hours had been nothing but one disaster after another. Reg, Curly, and Sparkle, people he was reluctantly forced to accept as friends, or at least allies, were paying the price for his freedom and it was just debt piled on debt.

He couldn’t do anything to help them, other than try to take out Corbin, which was quite frankly looking to be harder and harder to do. He had to concentrate on the second part of the plan, which was now the only part of the plan left, and get it done right. Well, at least he could do something about the van.

He strode out of the alley and down the street toward the cops. Minion said, “Hey, wait!” but he kept going.

The cops were so engrossed in small talk they never even noticed him coming down the sidewalk, until Megamind opened fire.

One cop dehydrated, then the other got hit as he turned around in surprise, grabbing at his own gun.

Megamind didn’t break stride, but walked up to the shocked driver and aimed at his head. “Unhook my van immediately,” he said.

The driver reached into the truck and fumbled for the switch. Slowly the winch lowered the front tires of the van back onto the ground. Megamind walked the driver to the back, aiming at him the whole time, while Minion swiveled around in his bowl, trying to keep all the gawking bystanders in sight.

“Smash the radio,” Megamind said.

“Er, what? Which radio?” Minion asked, swiveling around again and tapping his fingertips together. His fins trembled.

Megamind raised his eyebrows in an exasperated way and jerked his head at the tow truck. “The CB radio, Minion. In there.”

“Oh, right, right.” Minion punched the CB to smithereens.

The driver fumbled the chains off the van. “Hold him,” Megamind ordered Minion. The driver was not going to cause any trouble anyway, but it was important to make it clear who was in control.

The henchfish took hold of the driver’s upper arm and Megamind blasted the policemen’s squad car into cubes.

Someone shouted, “Yeah! Shoot ‘em up! Down with cops!”

Suspiciously he looked around. The guys hanging out by the loan shop were grinning. One of them, presumably the one who had philosophical differences with the establishment, clapped his hands with gusto.

The guy hosing off the sidewalk scowled, but didn’t look inclined to make a protest at this lack of respect.

Megamind felt the strain in his shoulders relax. A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. He studied the police tape over the bar entrance and thought about looking for his missing money in there, but if the money had been dropped in the bar, the cops had probably found it. Incompetent stooges they might be, but a fat wad of dough would be hard to miss.

As they pulled away, tires squealing, there was a ragged cheer from the anarchists.

“Now that is more like it,” he said with a grim smile.

\- - - - - -

Sparkle held her knees tight to her chest. The traffic on the overpass made the bridge shake, especially when trucks rumbled over, but she wasn’t budging until nightfall.

She squeezed her legs hard. She hoped she hadn’t killed him. Metro Man was supposed to be invulnerable. He must be all right, even if she had blasted him into the lake. She’d just been so surprised.

There weren’t very many flying supers in the world, but she’d never run into him before. She should have thought about that, that he would come to investigate the explosions. Surprise helped her make her escape, but she didn’t think she’d be that lucky a second time. Now that he knew the strength of her plasma blasts, he’d be better prepared next time. If he were still alive, that is.

She scrubbed her hands over her eyes. Well, he had to be all right, didn’t he? So she fled, in a panic, and knew she had to get out of sight as soon as possible, because she didn’t know how fast he could fly, so she hid under the bridge, and here she was stuck, unless he found her with his x-ray vision. She could sneak out after the heat was off and...

Oh no. She couldn’t go back to her apartment. Not _now._ Her tentative plan had been to keep Corbin and the others cornered until she was sure the alien boy and his fish friend got away, then fly back to her apartment immediately for a change into civilian clothes and to get her money. Once she was out of this ridiculous green suit, she would just be an anonymous young woman, and she would get on the first bus out of town.

Damn Metro Man! He’d delayed her, forcing her to hide, and DPI was probably staking out her place by now.

Tears stung her eyes and she pounded on her knees. She was so screwed. She couldn’t fly away, Metro Man would catch her. She couldn’t walk around town in this outfit. Maybe she could steal some clothes, money... her stomach growled. Food.

“Hey! You up there!”

Her back tried to burrow its way into the concrete behind her. Someone had spotted her.

It sounded like a woman, and so far as Sparkle knew, she was the only woman at this branch of DPI. Police? FBI?

With a weary sense of doom, she thought _Oh what the hell. I could fly away fast, and hide again, maybe._ Cautiously she stuck her head around the pylon.

A woman with fiery red hair done up in spikes stood on the shoulder of the road, wearing a short black jacket, a red shirt, and a black mini skirt. Her hands were on her hips and a frown was on her face. A man in a white t-shirt with torn off sleeves leaned against a white El Camino parked on the shoulder. The shiny metal trailer attached to it looked like it was in better shape than the car.

Sparkle felt like undercover cops wouldn’t wear quite so much make-up or give off such a scuzzbucket feel. Even the guy looked like he might be wearing mascara, like he’d just gotten finished with his garage band competition.

“Come down here so I can talk to you,” the woman called.

Sparkle looked suspiciously up and down the road going under the overpass, but there were only a few cars and trucks driving by. Traffic rumbled over her head. If they were cops, they were supposed to show their badges. Were they trying to trick her? Was a sniper hiding somewhere, waiting to pick her off? She’d seen it happen before. DPI was not known for its patience or compassion. She’d never seen these people before, and she knew most of Corbin’s cronies, including the really shady ones.

Even from so high up Sparkle could see the woman’s frown deepen. “Well?” the woman snapped. “I don’t got all day.”

“Let me see your badges,” Sparkle called. She wanted to know who she was dealing with.

The woman shook her head and stomped her pointy black boot. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at Sparkle again. She lifted one of her hands to waist height. A ball of fire appeared within her clawed fingers.

Sparkle drew a breath. Another super.

Red waved her hand and the flame winked out. She tapped her foot again and cocked her head.

Sparkle floated down to the road. Red looked to be in her late thirties, crow’s feet visible even under a heavy coating of foundation. There was a harsh set to her red lips that reminded Sparkle too much of Corbin. “Name’s Hot Flash.” She held out her manicured hand.

Sparkle shifted her weight. Her smile at Sparkle’s hesitation came close to mockery. “I don’t bite, honey.”

“Well, it’s just that... my hands might be too hot, still. I might burn you.” Sparkled glanced at her hands with a critical eye, but she caught the wary look that passed over Hot Flash’s face. People were hardly ever scared of Sparkle. It gave her a little feeling of satisfaction that she supposed she ought to be ashamed of, then decided not to.

The fact that Hot Flash was worried about getting burned was an interesting fact. Not immune to all heat sources, then? That was worth remembering. If there was any good to come out of her association with Corbin, it was the skill of ferreting out weakness. “I guess they’re cool enough,” she said airily, and firmly shook the other woman’s hand. “I’m Sparkle.”

Hot Flash smirked. “Cute. How about you come with us? Got a business proposition for ya.” Hot Flash half turned to go to the car.

Sparkle didn’t move. “Who’s he?” She cast a nervous look at the silent t-shirted man. He was big and a snake tattoo covered his beefy left arm.

“That’s Link, my boyfriend. Don’t worry about him, he’s normal. What the hell you so scared of? Didn’t you just blow up half the south side?”

Sparkle felt her throat close up and she hugged her arms, her little feeling of power evaporating. “What difference does that make?” she said. “You could drug me, or shoot me.”

“Look at it this way,” said Hot Flash. “You can’t stay here. People seen you.” She jerked her head at the roadway. Two more cars drove by, tires amplified by the space under the overpass. “But it’s up to you,” she said, shrugging. “Come with us, or take a chance on Wonder Boy plucking you out of the sky.” Her smile turned into a leer. “Unless you’d _like_ that.”

Sparkle rocked back and forth, biting her lip.

Hot Flash rolled her eyes. “Fine. I guess I’m wasting my time.” She turned and strode back to the car, heels clicking. Link opened the driver side door.

“Wait,” Sparkle said. “Where are we going?”

Hot Flash smiled. “Taking a little road trip. Link’s band has a gig down in Missouri and there’s a girlfriend I want to go visit on the way. Us girls got to stick together, right?”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Corbin leaned back in his chair. “This is for real?” he asked Agent Stone.

Stone nodded and glanced over his notes. “Yep. Soon’s I mentioned prison, Jenkins sang like a canary. He didn’t even demand to have counsel present. Not much of a law student if you ask me.”

Technically, Ronnie Jenkins wasn’t guilty of anything, except for possibly being a greedy idiot. They could try prosecuting him for knowingly accepting stolen goods, but it would be almost impossible to prove. Ronnie could simply deny knowing that the money he’d gotten from Megamind had been stolen. But Stone had hinted there might be certain charges pressed against him, and Ronnie had been only too happy to talk. The interrogation hadn’t provided anything useful, really, but Stone was glad he’d turned up someone he could throw to Corbin.

Corbin tapped his finger against his scarred lip.

“So the warden knew where Megamind was hiding out,” Stone said, as Corbin continued to stare into space with that disquieting smile. “Do we bring him in?”

Corbin shook his head. “No, we don’t have enough of a case. Not yet. Add this to John Parker’s file. Let’s wait and see what else turns up.”


	32. Hacked

Brad got the door to the apartment closed, and all the locks locked. He clicked on the light, took three steps forward, and froze.

Megamind sat stretched out on the couch, thumbing through one of Brad’s vintage comic books. “Ollo, Bradley Newton,” he said without looking up. “How’s tricks?”

Brad knew it must be a ploy to put him off balance. It was working. Surely Megamind hadn’t been sitting there reading in the dark, though the way those green eyes shone, Brad wouldn’t have been surprised if he really had been.

The squeak of metal joints made Brad whip his head around. Minion stood by the closed door, face expressionless, and casually crossed his arms over his chest, giving the impression, and a very good one it was too, of huge muscles flexing.

Brad swallowed and shuffled around to face the young alien flipping through his comics. “How’d you find me?” he asked dully, and then his eyes darted to the photographs scattered on the coffee table.

“Believe it or not, Brad, I was prepared to be sympathetic,” Megamind said, still apparently engrossed in the comic. “I’ve had first-hand experience with Corbin’s recruitment methods so I thought he strong-armed you into working for him. It was nave-ee-tay on my part, assuming he’d threatened to beat you or some such. But I suppose one can’t do that sort of thing to just anyone,” he added with a sigh. “Especially people with American citizenship and legitimate tax-payer status and whatnot.”

“Navy.... what?” Brad’s heart was pounding, but his frightened brain latched onto the odd word.

Megamind scowled. “Nave-ee-tay,” he said, flapping a hand in irritation. “Inexperience. Lack of wordliness.”

Brad shook his head helplessly. “Hey, I’m sorry about... about everything that happened, but I can’t help you. Tell you what, if you leave now, I won’t even say anything. To anyone.”

There was complete silence, except for the brief metallic sound of Minion shifting his weight and the creak of the floorboards under his feet. Megamind set the comic book down on his lap, steepled his fingers over his chest, and looked at Brad, eyes glittering. “Oh, don’t say that,” said Megamind. “I think you will be extremely helpful.

“Quite a chore, tracking you down,” he continued. “Fortunately it occured to me that there may have been a particular reason for Corbin to want you to help him break in to Tanaka Industries all those months ago. Not easy finding one peson with only their first name to go by, in all the several hundred people that Tanaka employs, but there you were.”

Tossing the comic book onto the stack, he swung his feet onto the floor and stood up. “Hidden away in the ‘Negotiated Departure’ file. Corbin could have found just about any old computer hacker, but the best hacker of all would be someone who worked for Tanaka. Or at least used to work for Tanaka, before his little...hobby got him in trouble.” Megamind glanced at the photographs splayed on the table.

Brad protested, “Hey, I’m not doing anything wrong. I didn’t take those photos.”

Megamind’s mouth twitched. “And yet, they are in your possesesion,” he said. “You really shouldn’t have been looking up these kinds of things at work. Careless. Especially for one with such extensive computer knowledge.”

“But I’m not doing anything wrong!” Brad snapped. “They’re art.”

“Oh, yes, this one is especially artistic,” Megamind said, snatching up one of the photos. He flipped it Brad, hard.

Brad flung his arm up and the sharp corner of the photo jabbed him before it fell to the carpet.

“I’d rather deal with drug lords than pedophiles,” Megamind growled. “If it weren’t for...”

“A pedo--- that’s sick!” Brad said indignantly. “I’m no pedophile! I just look.”

“These are photographs, Brad, of real children, younger than I am, and _someone_ had to shoot them,” Megamind said, voice rising.

“But they’re girls. It’s okay to look at girls. That’s normal.”

Megamind’s face hardened. He stalked around the table, fists clenched.

Brad backed up hastily, almost running into Minion. Flinching away he changed course until he had his back to a wall. His shoulder knocked the digital clock off its hanger. He had a sudden flashback to high school, and the sharp-edged kids who used to hang out behind the building, smoking cigarettes and talking trash. Brad had lived in mortal fear of them. Megamind would have fit right in.

Angry green eyes bored into his for several moments, and then Megamind took a deep breath and straightened, lowering his fists. “Then I count myself lucky that I am not normal,” he said coldly. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that, in exchange for not going to prison, Corbin offered you a way out. Help him break in to Tanaka, and he’d get you off the hook. I’ll make you a similar deal. Give me the security codes for DPI and I will let you leave town.”

“I can’t help you,” Brad whispered. “I can’t.”

“If you refuse, I will send this evidence to the police, your nearest and dearest relatives, and all your associates at the Sky High Comic Shop.”

Brad rubbed his mouth, trying to think of a way out, and grasped at one last straw. “Corbin will get me off the hook again.” It seemed a little reckless to say, but he had run out of options.

Megamind looked at him steadily. “Are you sure about that? Really sure? Now that the whole Tanaka business is over and done with, are you really that useful to him anymore? If your butt lands in jail again because of your little hobby, what makes you think Corbin will let you live? Especially with what you know?”

Brad licked his lips again, mind racing. He would never squeal on Corbin, he valued life too much for that, but he was supposed to keep his nose clean. Corbin didn’t like it when his people got arrested. Sometimes his displeasure became very pointed. “You have to promise to let me go,” he said. “I need to get out of town.”

Megamind nodded. “Yes. As far away as possible.”

\- - - - - - - - - - -

The records of DPI safely accessed, Megamind downloaded everything into his laptop. He dehydrated Brad. He planned on keeping his word to allow him to leave town, but not just yet. As nervous as Brad was, Megamind didn’t want to take the chance that Brad would have a panic attack and tell Corbin that Megamind had gotten into DPI’s records. Afterwards, after Corbin was taken down, then he’d let Brad go.

Megamind’s own jitteriness was growing. A repulsive hunger was growing within him, a hunger that had nothing to do with food. His thoughts kept straying to Psycho Delic, and he did not like it. So long as he had a plan to put into action he’d been able to keep it at bay, but now that the confrontation with Brad was completed, it was becoming more insistent, like a string was tied to him and it was tugging him toward the purple man.

Back at their makeshift lair, which had enjoyed a previous life as a pigeon coop on top of an empty building near Uncle Harry’s place, Megamind took a little tour through the Department of Paranormal Investigations’ employee files, financial records, and anything else that looked interesting. It was all there. DPI kept records on every super-powered being in the world, their families, and whether they were villains, heroes, or were trying to live under the radar.

Megamind found a file with his name on it along with his other aliases, ‘John Doe’ aka ‘Blue’. Minion had a file too. And, naturally, they read them.

It was rather alarming to discover that the FBI had attempted to seize Megamind when he was six. He tapped his fingers against his mouth thoughtfully, while Minion finished reading the page. Maybe he’d misjudged the warden. If the old man had wanted to rid himself of the burden of two alien kids, he could have simply stood aside and done nothing. Problem solved.

A warmth of a very unfamiliar feeling settled in his heart. To his surprise he realized it was gratitude.

“Finished?” he asked. Minion nodded and he clicked on the next document. What he read there chilled him and wiped out any vestigial affection he had left for the warden.

“The Scotts,” Minion said, puzzled, eyes scanning the damning sentences again. “The Scotts were footing the bill? That’s just...” He shook himself in his bowl, unable to find the right words.

“Incredible? Unbelievable? Abhorrent?” Megamind said, leaning back. “Paying to keep us behind bars.” Follow the money, they said. Always follow the money, but he’d never given any thought to who was paying for his upkeep. He just assumed it was the will of the city to keep potentially dangerous aliens where they could keep an eye on them. He felt as angry at his own ignorance as he did against Parker, the Committee, and now, the Scotts.

Did their snot-nosed super-brat know?

The file didn’t specify exactly who got the money. But he could guess. Why had Parker stopped the FBI from taking him away? Because he didn’t want to lose a source of revenue, perhaps? Every affectionate word and deed from his foster father took on a vaguely sinister glow. Perhaps it had all been a calculated show of concern, to keep Megamind satisfied and quiet right where he was. A few pats on the head, a few hearty words of encouragement, a few bones thrown to the alien boy.

A more reasonable thought tried to edge in, the thought that the warden wouldn’t have had to bother showing any kindliness at all, that he could have locked Megamind away in the deepest cell where he would never have to see the troublesome alien, but Megamind wasn’t open to reason just then.

The truth would set you free, it was said. Like hell it did. The truth was a sock to the gut.

“How could he do that to us?” he whispered.

Minion glanced at him. “Who? Lord Scott?”

He shook his head slowly. “The warden.”

Minion bit his lip. “Maybe he didn’t know?” he said uncertainly.

“How could he NOT know? My legal guardian didn’t know where the money’s coming from? I doubt it.” Anger filled his belly. “The Scotts funded the Alien Oversight Committee too. Ha! Do they have the entire city in their pockets? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

There were files on his prison uncles, too, but he returned to the main menu. As fascinating as it was to uncover the deep, dark secrets of his incarceration, he’d better get back to business.

A number of supers appeared to have died in custody. Others were on the run. There was a file of ‘Assets’ which turned out to be a listing of who was bought and sold. There was even a brothel out in Nevada somewhere.

There were video records, labelled ‘Interrogations.’ If Megamind hadn’t been so agitated he might have paused to think before clicking on one of them. An image appeared on screen, a man in a dirty gray jumpsuit tied to a gurney by his wrists and ankles. A power inhibiting collar was locked around his neck.

Psycho Delic entered the room from offscreen.

Megamind felt every hair on on his body stand on end.

“Hey, Peeper,” Psycho Delic said, grinning, his voice tinny on the recording. “Long time no see.”

The man tried to sit up, straining against the straps. “I won’t do it anymore, Psycho,” he gasped. “Tell them I won’t run away again.” Looking around at the walls he shouted, “Corbin! I won’t do it anymore!”

Psycho Delic cocked his head as if listening. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly, Peeps. Let’s get this party started.”

Megamind fumbled around the keyboard and clicked out of it. The walls closed in. Pushing out of the chair he went out onto the roof.

It wouldn’t do to let his profile show up, even though it was the middle of the night, so he found a place against the wall where he was in shadow and the breeze blew in his face. He looked out over the bright lights of the surrounding buildings.

In the distance, the red light on top of a radio transmitter slowly winked on and off. He let the sounds of traffic wash over him, trying to banish the image from his mind. He focused on the slow blink of the red light. The output of a typical radio tower was 100 kWs, he recalled. At a hundred meters, dividing the amount by 4 times pi (r) squared, with the right kind of receiver, one could harvest enough energy to maybe power a light bulb. Much more efficient to steal energy from high voltage transmission lines, he thought. The main trick was to siphon it off without the power company coming around to inspect.

Minion came out too, and stood looking out over the city with him. “Sir...”

“I’m fine,” Megamind said.

“Look at me and say that.”

He stiffened at the stern sound of Minion’s voice and shot a glare at him, but he couldn’t quite meet Minion’s eyes and his gaze skittered away. His breath grew harsh in his nostrils. “Do we have to do this now?”

“I don’t think it can wait. That video...was bad, but you are really jittery. A lot more than usual, and that’s saying something.”

Megamind rubbed his eyes. “I just feel like I need something. A cigarette or, or, or a drink.”

“You don’t smoke. Or drink, either.”

“No kidding!” he snapped. He was able to meet Minion’s somber gaze this time. “But maybe it would dull this... this other thing. It would be better than...” He pressed his lips together.

“Psycho Delic?” Minion said.

Megamind gave a short nod and looked away again. Pushing off from the wall he went back into the lair (hell, it was a damn shed, who was he kidding?) and flopped down into the short-backed swivel chair. Minion sat on the floor in front of him so that they were eye to eye.

Megamind swiveled back and forth a few times until Minion put out a firm hand and seized the armrest, making it stop. Megamind had the sudden urge to punch him, which would only have hurt Minion’s feelings and possibly broken Megamind’s hand, so he wrapped his arms around his stomach instead. What the hell was the matter with him? “Medicine, then,” he said. “There are medicines that help people recover from addictions.”

Minion thought this over. “I don’t know, Sir, we’d need a doctor’s supervision. I don’t think we want to start pumping random drugs into you.”

“Who said anything about random?” Megamind snapped. “I can find out what will work! Who needs doctors?”

Minion shook his little body firmly. “No. You can’t just do a little research and pick up this kind of thing from a textbook, or the Internet. Well, you could, but there’s all kinds of thing that can go wrong, that only doctors with experience can...”

Megamind waved his hands. “All right, all right. But I have to do something. Back at the squatters’ neighborhood, when they were looking for us, I thought I could hear him in my head.”

Minion’s forehead wrinkled. “You sure?”

Megamind fell against the back of the chair and dragged his hands down his face. “I don’t know, maybe I imagined it,” he groaned. With Psycho Delic’s vocabulary, it wouldn’t have been too hard to guess what he was shouting. “Even with my hands over my ears and my eyes shut, I felt like I could tell where he was,” he said. “When he was getting closer, and when he was moving farther away. It seemed like I could feel it.”

They sat in worried silence for a little while. Megamind picked his fingernails. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and he wiped it away. He thought about how Minion would probably go to sleep around dawn. _Then I could sneak out._ Psycho Delic was staying at the Federal Building. He dug his fingernails into his palm. _I am already planning on going to find him, somehow._ But just one hit could help clear his head and stop this damn twitchy feeling that was growing like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He realized he was rocking and made himself stop.

Minion chewed his lip. “Huh. That’s kinda like...nah.”

“Like what?”

“Just a thought. Heh. Random. I just thought it reminded me of our bond. Because I can sort of tell where you are.”

Megamind stared at him. “You can tell where I am through our bond?”

“If we’re close enough. Within about five or six feet, I think. Haven’t measured.”

Megamind put his hands on the armrests and slowly pushed himself to his feet, never taking his eyes off his loyal henchfish. “You mean you’re psychic?” he cried. “I can’t believe this. You never said a word! All this time you ... what’s so funny?” He put his hands on his hips and glared.

Minion shook with laughter, fins and dorsals waving. “Oh, Sir, don’t be silly,” he finally said when he got a hold of himself. “This doesn’t have anything to do with being psychic. This is _natural.”_

Megamind rolled his eyes and flopped back into the chair. “Well, then, what does this ‘natural’ phenomenon consist of?” he said, making quotes in the air with his fingers. “Is it biochemical?”

Minion scratched his dome. “Hmm. Dunno. Maybe.”

Megamind narrowed his eyes. “Can you read my thoughts or tell what I’m feeling?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I can’t read your mind, and I just have to look at you to tell how you’re feeling. But that’s just because I know you so well.”

“But you can sense my presence. And only when I’m close.”

“Yep.”

“What good is that?” Megamind said, exasperated. “If I’m within five or six feet you just have to look for me, not access some ephemeral bonding mechanism!”

Minion looked hurt. “It doesn’t have to _do_ anything. It’s our bond. We’re bonded. It means we’ll be together forever.”

Megamind held up his hands, grimacing. “Okay, don’t get upset," he said more quietly. "I was merely trying to find out if there’s some additional utilitarian purpose.” He rubbed his forehead. “Though I suppose it would be useful, if I were stuck under some rubble or something, and you couldn’t see me,” he muttered.

He looked up. “Does this mean I can do this too? Sense you through the bond?” It might help explain why he sensed Psycho Delic’s presence.

Minion brightened. “Hey, I never thought of that before! Yeah, I’ll bet you can.”

“So how do you... access it?”

“Well, I just sort of think about it and I feel it.”

“Not very helpful, Minion.” Megamind crossed his arms over his chest, scowling.

Minion shifted his weight. “Well, I never had to explain it before. I just think about it, and I remember how it felt when we first bonded. And then I just feel it.” He waved his hands vaguely, and his face relaxed into a smile. “Remember that day, Sir?”

“Of course I remember. We locked gazes and my parents took turns carrying both of us around all day. If you were out of my line of sight for even a second I’d cry.”

It certainly had made nursing a challenge. Still an infant, he’d barely even slept, but his meen-yahn’s warm eyes were riveting, as compelling as his mother’s presence, and just as vital.

Minion peered at him. “I concentrate a little, and then I just...” His voice trailed away and his eyes unfocused. He became very still, and not even his fins moved. Then he blinked and gave Megamind a puzzled look. “Will you allow me to come closer, Sir?”

Megamind shrugged, feeling uneasy at Minion’s sudden formality. “Of course, Minion.” They were already almost knee to knee. He perched on the edge of the chair so they could bring their heads together. Minion pressed his head against the inside of the bowl and Megamind did the same on the opposite side. Minion looked into his eyes.

Megamind tried not to squirm. Moments passed. He clenched and unclenched his hands on Minion’s shoulders, fighting impatience. _What’s he doing, giving the bond a check-up?_

Then the itch behind his eyeballs got worse, and invisible fingers pinched his heart.

“Ow,” he complained, leaning back. He rubbed his chest and forehead. “Did you do something? I feel like... Minion?”

Minion’s eyes were wide as if he saw some invisible horror, and his jaw hung slack. “No,” he whispered. “That son of a bitch.” His voice changed into a growl on the last word and his little face contorted with rage.

Megamind stood up hastily and bumped into the chair. Being on the receiving end of Minion’s anger was a completely new experience. “Whoa. Easy there, Minion. I don’t like to say this, but you are starting to freak me out.”

Minion blinked and shook himself hard. His gaze softened as he looked at his friend. “Sorry, Sir, I’m not mad at you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Who said anything about scared?” Megamind snapped. “I was just... concerned.”

Minion didn’t miss a beat. “Right. But he messed with it.” He gnashed his teeth. “It’s all sludgy.”

“What does that mean?” The blood drained out of his face. “You mean I’m bonded to him?” he cried. “Bonded to that...that...” He waved wildly out in the general direction of the city.

“No, no! It’s not a new bond. But it’s like he tapped into it somehow.”

Shaking, Megamind paced twice across the small room, rubbing his hands. “What did he tell you when you had him captive? Did he say anything that might give us a clue to what he did?”

Minion scratched his dome. “Umm, when I threatened to smush his head, he said something about endorphins, and a hormonal cascade. To make a ‘fight-or-flight’ response. And boy, did you fight!” He chuckled.

Megamind’s mouth twisted. “Ew. Hormones.” Little microscopic bits of Psycho Delic had invaded him. “Yuck yuck yuck.” He spasmed with revulsion, shaking his arms, and paced across the room again.

Minion grabbed his elbow and drew him to a stop. “Sir, I think your system is fighting it. You recover from stuff so quickly. And he only got you that one time.”

“It was three. Three doses of that smoke.” He shuddered. “Uurgh.”

“Well...I still think you can shake this off. You just need to hang in there, give it time to pass.”

“But how? People can’t just fight off addiction with willpower!” He pulled away from Minion’s gentle grip and paced around again.

Minion grabbed both his arms on the next pass and looked hard into his eyes. “But other people don’t have me, Sir. I can help you. You’re always calmer when we touch. We can ride this thing out, together.”

“I’m the one who has to ride it out,” Megamind snapped, shaking off Minion’s grip but he didn’t pace around again again. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’ll be all right, Sir. Maybe we can sort of... re-bond.”

“But how long will it take? We need to get this information out,” he said, gesturing at the computer.

Minion looked at him sideways. “How bad is it?”

Megamind worked his jaw. Admitting weakness went against everything he stood for, but anything was better than getting pulled back to Psycho Delic. “I’m figuring out how to sneak away while you’re asleep,” he muttered. “And calculating how quickly I can short-circuit your robot suit so you can’t follow.” He looked away, feeling irrational anger at having to admit it.

Minion nodded solemnly. “We do it now, Sir.”

They decided to stay in the new lair for the duration of the detox, despite the meager accommodations, rather than go back to Uncle Harry’s and risk getting interrupted by him. Minion left his robot body blocking the door, to activate it if worst came to worse and Megamind attempted to flee.

Megamind wrapped himself in the only blanket and sat in the corner, holding Minion on his raised knees. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Then we can try pumping you full of drugs.”

“Hmph. As long as there’s something to fall back on.”

They locked gazes, and waited.

\- - - - - - - - -

Time passed.

Megamind understood what Minion meant when he said the bond was ‘sludgy.’ Now that he was forced to sit still and pay attention, along with the itchy feelings in his chest and head, there was an unpleasant sensation of being coated with a thin layer of grime.

The bond had been a part of him for so long he’d taken no notice of it. He had no need to, before.

“This is boring,” Megamind muttered. It wasn’t really. It was just so quiet. He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because the craving was stronger now, making him want to fidget.

{“Hush, Amlin. You’re fine,”} Minion murmured.

For some reason the Ahrini words drew him into another layer of quiet. The nasty itching behind his eyes grew more urgent, then subsided, then surged back again, goading him to move, to do something, anything, to stop it. Find Psycho Delic, and the discomfort would go away.

He sweated and trembled, but Minion’s eyes anchored him where he was. He clung to Minion’s presence like a swimmer in rough seas clings to a rock.

Outside, the city went on about its business. Traffic flowed. A car without a muffler roared past. Tires squealed and a horn blared as a driver leaned on it.

Megamind heard it all in a distant sort of way, but he and Minion were in another world. He had to blink, and sometimes there was pain that he closed his eyes against, but whenever he opened them again, Minion was there, gazing steadily and solemnly at him, the benefit of a watery habitat.

When he grew too tired to even sit up he curled up on the floor, nestling his head on his arm, and settled the containment unit close so he could lean his head against it. With weary amusement he noticed Minion turn sideways too so that they’d maintain eye contact.

{“Very thoughtful, Niri,”} he murmured.

Minion smiled.

It was the quietest detox in history.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind opened his eyes. Sunlight leaked in around the boarded up window. His forehead lay against the containment unit. Minion slept.

Megamind lay still, taking in the details of the wooden floorboards, which Minion had scrubbed clean of dirt and ancient pigeon droppings. He rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty and dry.

“How are you feeling, Sir?” Minion peered at him. Across the room, the robot body moved slightly as Minion reactivated it.

Megamind took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sludgy, grimy feeling was gone. He felt ordinary. He never realized how good it felt to feel ordinary. “You tell me,” he said, grinning.

Minion peered into his eyes, and a toothy smile stretched across his face. “Looks good, Sir. All clear.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say ‘good’, Minion,” Megamind said. “In fact, I’m feeling particularly ee-vil today.” Hopping to his feet, he put Minion back atop his robot suit. “Let’s ruin some lives!” he said, sitting at the computer station.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Agent Corbin waved the transcript at Agent Finney. “Who the hell is Uncle Harry, and why isn’t he on my list?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Finney said, adjusting his glasses.

“You’re sure that’s what Minion said? Let me hear the tape.”

“We use digital sound files now, Agent Corbin. They’re...”

“Does it look like I care? Whatever it’s called, let me hear the recording.”

Minion’s voice floated into the office, crackly and muffled, but unmistakable. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t take him back to Uncle Harry’s like this. He’ll still be all crazy once he’s re-hydrated.”

“You can come with us,” Curly said. “We got a place. It’s quiet...”

“All right, I’ve heard enough,” Corbin said. “Bring John Parker in for questioning.”


	33. Rev-ahnge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I see...swift hounds on the scent, and my enemy flying for his life." -Richard Adams, "Watership Down"

Vic Spinelli was picked up for shoplifting. He claimed to be one of Megamind’s uncles, and dropped broad hints that he might remember where a certain alien fugitive could be hiding.

  
Only he wasn’t totally sure. Getting arrested was so upsetting it was really messing with his head, though his memory could get better, maybe, if, say, there was a lesser charge where he wouldn’t get penalized for violating parole, or maybe a dismissal of the charges altogether? The arresting officers rolled their eyes, but passed on the message to Inspector Buford.

  
\- - - - -

  
When Corbin strolled into the interrogation room, he was pleased to see that the warden’s hands were clenched into fists on the table. The real interrogation room, where they brought in regular citizens for questioning, not the other room with the drain in the floor.

  
“This is the grossest form of harrasment,” Parker said, voice low with the effort of containing his anger. “You will be hearing from my lawyer.”

  
Agent Bates put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall for the look of the thing. Corbin swung the other chair around and straddled it, resting his forearms on the back. “I’ll bet I will. Though I don’t think her reports to the Scotts are going to make you look too favorable. You think they’re going to want to keep footing the bill?”

  
Parker’s eyes moved slightly in their sockets before returning to glare at Corbin. “That has nothing to do with this situation.”

  
Corbin cocked his head. “Really? Don’t you ever wonder why the Scotts keep paying for little Blue’s upkeep? I sure as hell do.” He studied Parker. “Or maybe you do know. Or think you do.”

  
A flicker of some unnamable emotion passed across the warden’s face.

  
“A little charity out of the goodness of their hearts?” said Corbin. “Or maybe Lord Scott expects to get some return on his investment.”

  
“You have me dragged all the way over here to ask me about Blue’s fund?”

  
Corbin shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, you may not be allowed to be the freak’s guardian anymore, since you’ve done everything you can to insure that he won’t be caught. Obstructing our investigation from the start. Lying, hiding evidence.”

  
“That’s a load of crap. I told you everything I’ve told the police.”

  
“The last time my agents came to your house you slammed the door on them.”

  
“Because I had no new information,” Parker snapped. “And I didn’t feel like talking with anyone from DPI. Not with crooked feds who get their kicks beating up suspects.”

  
“Careful, warden. I ought to sue you for slander.” He knew that Parker had no hard evidence. The tape from the parking garage on the night of Megamind’s arrest was safely in DPI’s possession, and Corbin planned to keep it that way. He pulled out a sheet and pushed it across the table. “All of Megamind’s uncles who are on parole. Or so you said. This is the list you gave me?”

  
“Yes, that looks right.”

  
“There a reason why Harry Chambers isn’t on here?”

  
Parker looked startled. His face went slack as slumped back in the chair. “Ohhh,” he breathed out in a sigh and rubbed his hand over his mouth. “That was a mistake.”

  
“Yeah. And you made it.”

  
“This is the same list I gave to the police when Blue first broke out back in January. At the time those were all of his parolee uncles.” Parker tapped on the paper with an index finger. “It wasn’t updated. Harry got parole just a few weeks ago. I just didn’t think of...”

  
“I think I can see what’s going on here,” Corbin interrupted. “You’re pretty fond of that little blue boy, aren’t you? I saw the photo on your desk. Probably gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, knowing he’s out and about, running free for the first time in his life. You knew all along who he’d go to if he ever got in real trouble.”

  
Parker took a deep breath. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit case you think you’re building against me, but it’s not going to hold up.”

  
Corbin smiled. “I haven’t found out how you and Megamind have been communicating, but I will.” _Even if I have to make something up._

  
“Harry Chambers was an oversight. You can’t seriously expect anyone to believe that I knew where Blue was!”

  
“You knew he was using the Kum n’ Go gas station as a hangout. I have a witness to prove it.” It was a real pleasure watching Parker freeze up. “John Parker, I’m placing you under arrest on charges of endeavoring to obstruct justice. You can let him have his phone call now,” Corbin said to Bates. Turning back to Parker he lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll give Tolliver a call? If the Scotts will let you use their lawyer anymore, that is.”

  
Corbin left the room. He’d bury Parker in the courts. The warden would be so swamped with his own legal battles he wouldn’t have any energy left over to fight for the rights of the blue boy.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - -

  
“Nice to have you aboard,” Corbin said to his two new supers and their handlers. “At ease, Grinder. You’re not in the army anymore.”

  
“Yes sir!” the big man barked, making the room shake. Corbin winced. Grinder cleared his throat and tried to relax. “Sorry, sir. I’ll try,” he said in a voice moderately less booming.

  
Volt snorted. “Hey, it beats Grenville.” Grenville was a new prison exclusively for criminal supers. He fidgeted, scratching under the inhibitor collar, which was leaving a rash.

  
“You meet Psycho Delic, guys?” Corbin waved his arm. “He can show you the ropes.”

  
The two supers glanced at the purple man slouched against the wall under the ‘No Smoking’ sign, tapping cigarrette ash on the carpet.

  
“Um...hey,” Grinder said, lifting his hand.

  
Psycho Delic stared at him, eyes glowing through the cigarrette haze, until Grinder shuffled back a few extra paces, trying to slip behind the agent who was his handler.

  
“Chill out, man,” the agent grumbled. For a guy with super strength and semi-invulnerability, Grinder was amazingly meek. A product of the defunct Super Soldiers Project, he was maybe a little too good at following orders. He practically had to be told how to eat.

  
Corbin raised his voice to address the room. “Listen up, people. We’ve got eyes and ears on the flophouse, as soon as there’s confirmation the targets are on the premesis, we move in. I want them alive. Volt, light up the apartment, that’ll take out Megamind. Grinder, you disable Minion. But if he’s too much trouble, take him down. Aim for the head,” he said, talking to everyone at large. “That’s where he’s most vulnerable.”

  
An agent asked, “How much trouble is too much?”

  
“I’ll decide that when the time comes.”

  
He went into his office and shut the door. They were still waiting on the search warrant, but if the suspects were sighted, they wouldn’t need it anyway.

  
Noticing the slight shaking in his hands, he took the flask out of the bottom drawer and took a cautious swig, just enough to stop the trembling. He was so very close. The little freak had run out of places to hide.

  
The computer monitor on his desk turned on with a crackle of static.

  
Megamind appeared on the screen. The picture showed him from the chest up, wearing a black long-sleeved shirt with a popped collar, seated in a low-backed swivel chair. His black-gloved fingers steepled in front of him, an evil smile on his thin face, he oozed smug confidence. The edge of Minion’s robot arm was visible on the side. One eyebrow lifted on the blue forehead. “Drinking on the job? And it’s not even one o’clock. Tsk, tsk.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head.

  
Very carefully, Corbin put the flask away as he examined the screen and the grinning Megamind. Black fabric hung behind Megamind’s chair, obliterating all features of the room. As soon as this ridiculous meeting was over with, Corbin would check with his agents. Megamind could be at Harry Chambers’s place right now. Possibly he’d been there since before they began the stakeout.

  
Megamind leaned closer to the screen, brows wrinkling in mock concern. “Oooo, those are some nasty scars you’ve got there. Minion, take a look at your handiwork. Very impressive.”

  
Minion’s face appeared as he leaned down. “Yeah, I guess I got ‘im pretty good, Sir.”

  
_Just for that, you’ve both earned yourselves another hour of pain, one for every tooth mark._ “So what’s the occasion?” Corbin said. “Come to brag?”

Megamind waved his hands before steepling them again. “Oh no, no, no. Just thought I’d check in with my favorite sadist, chew the fat, shoot the breeze,” He tilted his head. “And, actually, there is something of importance I’d like to discuss with you.”

  
Corbin shrugged and leaned back. This should be interesting.

  
Megamind rubbed his hands together. “The thing is, Ed...mind if I call you Ed? Agent Corbin is so formal. The thing is, Ed, I’m woefully short of cash. With your merry men hounding me, not to mention the constabulary, and what with having to duck and cover every time a pidge-ee-on flies overhead, well, I barely have room to move. You want access to my amazing intellect, yes?”

  
_He must be recording the conversation. Trying to get me to say something incriminating. Not gonna work, blue boy._ “I want to see justice served.”

  
Megamind chuckled, unconcerned that he’d failed to get Corbin to damn himself with his own words. “Don’t we all. So, I have a compromise. What say I accept a few assignments from you on sort of a freelance basis? I keep my freedom, generate a bit of income and some breathing room, and you get the benefits of my fantastic thought processes.”

  
Corbin’s mouth fell open slightly. “You... want... to work for me,” he said slowly. “I find that hard to believe.”

  
“Why? I hold no grudges. I’m willing to overlook our philosophical differences if you are.”

  
Corbin snorted. _Philosophical...? What a... a child. He really does have more guts than brains. This arrogant kid thinks he can negotiate with me._  
“What do you want, an internship?”

  
Megamind laughed heartily. “Ha ha ha ha! And they say you have no sense of humor. That’s a good one, Ed. I was thinking of something more remote. Because I don’t think I would do well if we were in the same room together. I might find it impossible to leave.”

  
Corbin put his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers together. “So, I would contact you via a third party or a messaging service, and give you assignments at a neutral drop site?”

  
“Ah, I can see you are a shrewd one!” Megamind said, wagging his finger at the screen. “Something along those lines, yes. I’m sure we can hammer out these sticky details as we go along. Oh. Is it starting already?” He looked off to the side. “Excuse me, Ed, I’m monitoring several different screens.”

  
“Yeah, looks that way, Sir,” said Minion.

  
“So quick! Agent Jackson’s got a real chip on her shoulder, doesn’t she?”

  
Corbin stiffened. “Dena Jackson?”

  
“Yes, of Internal Affairs.”

  
Corbin’s hand twitched. “What the hell is going on?” The little bastard had lied when he said the chat was private. He made himself relax. He knew he hadn’t said anything that hinted at his misdeeds.

  
Megamind pulled a sad face and placed a hand on his chest. “I feel just terrible about this Ed, just terrible, but my little talk was just a distraction, really. Imagine, me volunteering to work for you.” Leaning back in his chair he gave Corbin a slow, evil grin. “Do you remember when I told you that if you laid a finger on Minion I would spend the rest of my life inventing new ways of giving you pain?” he said quietly. “And you gave a big laugh and all your jerk-off cronies laughed, and you said...” Megamind’s voice got deeper and mockingly officious, “‘Was that a threat? Here’s a tip, little boy...’”

  
“Get on with it,” Corbin snapped. If Megamind was recording this, did he really think his recitation would sway anyone? It was his word against Corbin’s.

  
Megamind held up his hand. “Now, now, be patient. You laid that finger on him, Ed, and I can’t overlook that. You’ll be glad to hear that I have taken your advice, and come up with a way to deliver. There’s all kinds of pain, Ed. I wanted to be here to see your face when I tell you the news.”  
He took a deep breath. “I got into your system, Ed. Sent loads of evidence off to...ohhh...just about everybody. Internal Affairs, the CIA, FBI, the Attorney General, a bunch of senators and congresspeople, especially the ones who just love to dive right in to human rights abuses. Looks like Agent Jackson is right on top of things. She’s...” he peered offscreen, “...issued a warrant for your arrest, and ordered the shutting down of all DPI offices across the country for auditing and inspection! Oh my evil goodness, that’s more than I expected, you must have really ticked her off.”

  
Corbin felt his chest constrict. “You little-! You bastard! YOU...” Leaping to his feet he ran to the filing cabinet with the passwords for the bank accounts.

  
Megamind’s voice floated into the room as Corbin flung files onto the floor. “They know about your double life as Shadow, too, by the way. That’s the trouble with secret identities, people are always stumbling across them. They’re coming for you, Ed. Better hurry!”

  
Corbin jumped as a drum beat blasted from the computer’s speaker, the start of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.” Sweating, he got his hands on the right file and shoved it under his arm. Running over to the desk he delivered a roundhouse kick that sent the computer crashing to the floor. Megamind’s chuckling face disappeared as the screen went black, but the damn music didn’t stop.

He charged out of the office, pursued by the voice of Freddie Mercury singing “...are you ready, hey, are you ready for this, are you hangin’ on the edge of your seat...”

  
Ignoring the startled faces of the other agents he went over to Volt and Grinder. “Got a new assignment. We’re about to get attacked.”

  
A confused murmur rose in the room. “Attacked? By who? What’s he talking about?”

  
Grinder was immediately on board. “Yes sir!” he roared, and flexed his muscles. His shirt, which was under tremendous strain anyway, burst its seams. Volt raised his hands, electricity sparking around him, then cast a confused look at his handler.

  
The agent glanced around. “Wait a minute. What’s going on? Bates?”

  
Bates got in Corbin’s path. “What the hell, man?”

  
Corbin gave a quick shake of his head. “They’re on to us,” he said, and hurried out to the hallway, gesturing at the supers to follow. If Bates was too stupid to figure it out, he deserved what he got.

  
Lyrics mocked him. “Another one bites the dust...another one bites the dust...”

  
“Somebody turn that off!” he shouted, pointing back at his office. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bates race to his desk. _Going for his ticket. Guess he’s not too stupid._

  
Puzzled and alarmed looks followed Corbin as he strode between the desks. A few of the more crooked agents quickly guessed that their world was about to collapse around their ears and got ready for a hasty departure. In a few seconds it would be pandemonium.

  
Corbin stepped into the hall, wondering if they’d closed off the building yet.

  
A group of FBI agents came out of the elevator and strode purposefully toward him.

  
Already!

  
“Grinder! Volt!” he bellowed. “Attack!”

  
Grinder, who hadn’t quite gotten through the door, slammed his big arms against the frame, sending glass and plaster across the floor, followed by his thoroughly confused handler. Corbin knew what the agents were thinking: they had to follow a direct order from him, their director, but... against FBI agents?

  
Grinder howled, slapped his own head to psych up, and charged. The FBI scattered like bowling pins. Two FBI agents opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off Grinder’s thick hide, though a few got implanted halfway in at his chest and one wedged in his forehead like a metallic third eye.

  
Volt and his agent handler were hanging back, bewildered, and then Volt got hit by a ricochet, though Corbin didn’t see where. He was too busy racing for the exit. Volt fell against the wall with a shriek, electricity shooting out of his fingertips. The hall filled with lightning and screams, the florescent lights exploded, and it all went dark.

  
\- - - - - - -

  
When Megamind schemed to recover Minion’s robot suit, his attack on the Federal Building’s central computer system was neat and specific, locking all electronic doors and cutting power, but leaving their other systems untouched.

  
Volt’s wild discharge traveled through the walls and sawed through the network with all the precision of an eight-armed axe murderer. DPI’s security system was the first to bite the dust.

  
\- - - - - - -

  
All the cell doors popped open, leaving the warden with the option of worsening his situation by becoming a fugitive.

  
The lights shorted out. Not even emergency lights clicked on. Parker made his way to the opening by feel and poked his head out. “Hello?” he said cautiously into the dark. There was no reply, but he could hear a lot of muffled shouting from somewhere.

  
Parker made his way back to the cot and sat down. All things considered, a cell seemed like the best place to be.

  
\- - - - - - - -

  
Psycho Delic looked up at the lights when the power went out. He’d slipped down to the first floor lobby to get a bag of chips from the vending machine, and to see if Gloria was on duty at the front desk. He liked watching Gloria. She blushed so prettily.

  
Gloria was indeed on duty, but the vending machine had eaten his change, and now the power was out. His glowing red eyes were reflected back at him from the plastic front. And only his eyes.

Frowning, he moved the collar around. Had it gotten twisted, was that why...

  
He hissed in a breath through his teeth, pulse quickening. The power inhibiting collar was completely black. The little row of green lights were off.

“No fucking way,” he whispered. He took another deep breath, and raised his arms.

  
A wave of fierce joy surged through him as his power ignited. Exhaling, he sent his smoke out in an expanding wave throughout the lobby and down the hall.

  
YES! He stre-e-e-tched...It had been so long since he was at full strength. So long...

  
There were chokes, sobs, and hysterical laughter from the shmucks around the place as his purple haze engulfed them, and the thought of Gloria flitted through his head, but there was no time for that. Psycho Delic ran toward the parking garage.

  
_Tools, I need tools!_ He had to get the collar off before Ross discovered he was missing and they fixed the power.

  
\- - - - - - - -

  
Corbin raced down the stairs three at a time. The glow at the bottom of the stairwell showed that the door to the parking garage was propped open.

  
He was in a tremendous hurry, but still he was brought up short by the man lying in the doorway, his legs keeping the door from closing all the way. Corbin recognized him as one of the maintenance men. A grey toolbox lay open on its side. Hammers, drill bits, and wire cutters were scattered everywhere. Had he fallen?

  
Didn’t matter. He ran down the last steps to step over him, and walked through a smoke cloud.

  
What the hell? Flapping his hand to clear it away, he hurried on, forcing his weary legs into a jog to the car. Coughing, he made his way through the darkened garage. There was just enough outside light to see the shapes of the cars. He wondered if a fire had started somehow, maybe Volt had...

  
The sickly taste of fruit covered in tar coated his tongue and his knees went numb.

  
_Oh shit._ No wonder his legs felt so heavy.

  
Footsteps sounded behind him, slow and deliberate. He had a bad feeling he knew who it was and groped for his gun but it slipped from his nerveless fingers, falling with a clatter.

  
Gathering his fading strength, he whirled, raising his fist for a blow that would take off Psycho Delic’s head, but his arm was a leaden weight that flopped around and dragged him down. To the surprise of his bewildered brain, Psycho Delic was still over ten feet away. Glowing red eyes fixed on him.

  
“Sense of timing. Bad,” he mumbled, then wondered why he even bothered saying it out loud.

  
He blinked and suddenly Psycho Delic was right next to him, kicking the gun away. Psycho Delic chuckled. “Oh, you don’t want to do that. Why doncha take a seat?”

  
The words echoed in his throbbing head. Rainbow lights of purple and pink spun in his peripheral vision. Legs folding, he slid down the side of a car. Squinting, he tried to focus on the man looming over him but looking up made him dizzy.

  
Psycho Delic tilted his hat back with his thumb as he leaned over to look in Corbin’s face. “Wanna know something, Corbin?” he whispered. “I don’t like you. Hope you liked your brain while it lasted.”

  
Smoke billowed.

  
\- - - - - - - -

  
Grinder was knocked out by one of Volt’s blasts. Volt stopped electrocuting everything so he could put his hands over his leg to try to keep from bleeding to death. His handler helped him get the wound under control.

  
A number of agents on both sides had been shocked into unconsciousness. The FBI agents who could still walk arrested everyone in the DPI office. They decided they would figure out who was guilty of what later.

  
DPI Agent Ross was spared immediate arrest and he was allowed to lead the increasingly desperate search for Psycho Delic.

  
Ross took one look at the lobby, where half a dozen people shuffled and wheezed and shrieked, purple haze drifting around their knees. He ducked back into the stairwell.

  
“Call for medics,” he snapped at the FBI agents. “Tell them to wear hazmat suits, or at least gas masks.”

  
The air vents were out along with the power so the smoke would take a while to clear. Psycho Delic’s smoke grew weaker over time, but it was better not to take chances.

  
The FBI didn’t argue when Ross hurried down the stairwell. At the sight of the haze showing up in the light at the bottom, they hung back, but Ross plowed ahead. He’d glimpsed the man lying in the doorway. Taking off his jacket he whipped it at the smoke, beating it away from his path, and covered his mouth with his gun arm. If he started seeing tentacled three-eyed hamsters chewing on his elbows, he could detoxify later.

  
To his relief the maintenance man appeared to be just unconscious. The man was whistling through his nose. Ross stepped cautiously into the parking garage. The smoke had thinned out a great deal here, from the outside air blowing in.

  
“Come on, it’s not that bad! I need assistance!” he shouted up the stairwell. Without waiting for them, he dropped the jacket and moved past the cars, hands sweating, gun at the ready.

  
He turned in all directions as he walked, looking into the shadows, and found Corbin slumped against a car, his head bowed and chin pressed into his chest so Ross couldn’t see his face.

  
A power-inhibiting collar lay nearby, snipped in half. Wire cutters lay next to it.

  
Ross didn’t stop to assist; recapturing Psycho Delic was imperative. He walked quickly around the garage, all the way out to the street, but Psycho Delic was gone.

  
Ross trudged back.

  
A few of the FBI had gathered their courage and were coming along with their guns ready. Ross shook his head at them.

  
He glanced at the wire cutters and the small dark stain on them. Blood? But there wasn’t any blood on Corbin’s clothes. Bracing himself, Ross tilted up Corbin’s chin.

  
There weren’t any new, horrible wounds, thank God, but the drooling mouth that opened and closed like a bird’s beak and the staring eyes were almost as ghastly. Psycho Delic must have cut himself getting the collar off, and been in too much of a hurry to get inventive.

  
Ross slumped against another car. It occurred to him, briefly, that he could have just run, when the FBI had hung back at the stairs, but he had no where to go anyway.

  
A psychotic super was on the loose, and the burden of guilt weighed down his shoulders. He made no protest when they slapped the cuffs on him.

  
\- - - - - - - -

  
Mrs. Tolliver had a few quiet words with the local FBI director Mr. Lewis, who was struggling to sort out the tremendous howling mess that had landed in his lap, and charges against the warden were dropped.

  
“I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Tolliver,” Parker said, tugging on his tie as they walked down the steps of the Federal Building.

  
“It’s my job, Mr. Parker,” she said.

  
He glanced at her. Mrs. Tolliver tended to be professionally standoffish, but there was an extra coolness about her today, as if she were distancing herself.

The fleet of ambulances converging on the Federal Building had drawn every news crew in town. Parker and Tolliver brushed aside a couple of reporters' attempts to interview them. Parker caught a glimpse of Robert Chang, who'd interviewed him briefly the morning Blue escaped Corbin's custody, but he was in the middle of making a broadcast and didn't see them.

Eventually they got clear of the reporters, cameramen, medics, and stretchers.

  
They walked across the sunny parking lot. An ambulance screamed out into the street.

  
“Mr. Parker,” she said, looking straight ahead. “Have you had prior knowledge of Blue’s location?”

  
Parker walked three more steps before answering. “Just the gas station hang out. Nothing more. There's one more place I only recently found out about, one more person to check. I'll give the inspector a call when I get home." Of course he wasn't _sure,_ but they'd have to investigate.

  
Mrs. Tolliver slowed to a stop. “Lord Scott has concerns that you may not be the ideal guardian. That your objectivity is not what it should be.”

  
“I’m going to adopt them,” he said.

  
Her mouth fell open slightly and her eyebrows went up a whole quarter of an inch. It was the most shocked he’d ever seen her get. “I would advise against it,” she said.

  
“Oh, so his lordship doesn’t approve?” Parker said sharply.

  
She took a deep breath. “The only reason I am here is because of Lord Scott’s desire to avoid a scandal. He is not happy with your... handling of the situation. It’s also possible that you will no longer be allowed to access the legal services of my office.”

  
He sighed and looked around the lot. In the distance a couple of seagulls strolled around a spilled bag of french fries. “He’s trying to get himself named legal guardian, isn’t he?”

  
“I am not at liberty to discuss Lord Scott’s activities,” she said, not without sympathy. She dug in her purse, muttering under her breath. After impatiently shoving aside several items, she pulled out a business card. “Neville Strunk. Excitible, just became a partner, but he does a decent job. Lives in Huffton, unfortunately, so it’s a bit of a commute, but he does pro bono. I’m reasonably sure he’s got room in his schedule for you.”

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
“The disturbing news about one of our nation’s most secretive agencies continues to unfold,” said the anchorwoman on the television, a concerned crease between her perfect brows.

  
Megamind propped his feet on the table. “How about some of that caramel popp-ed corn?”

  
“Here ya go, Sir,” said Minion, handing over the bag.

  
The anchorwoman said, “As many as half of the employees of the Department of Paranormal Investigations are believed to have been involved in criminal activities ranging from theft, to dealing drugs and human trafficking.”

  
“And alien trafficking,” said Minion.

  
_“Attempted_ alien trafficking,” said Megamind with a grin, still chewing. “But they failed miserabley. Hey, catch!” He flicked a piece of popcorn up in a high arc and Minion stuck his head out to snatch it out of the air.

  
“Let’s check in with Robert Chang, on site at the Federal Building in downtown Metro City. Robert, what more can you tell us about these unusual events? Has everyone from DPI been arrested?”

  
The picture shifted to the reporter’s equally grave face. “That’s what we’ve been hearing, but the FBI isn’t saying much. A number of people have been taken to area hospitals, most of them suffering from blunt force trauma, bullet wounds, electrocutions, and hallucinations, the victims of multiple super-powered attacks. Apparently, DPI employed several criminals with unique...”

  
Megamind wrinkled his nose. He thumbed the remote, switching channels until he found another news broadcast. Channel 11 was showing an older photo of Corbin, unscarred. “...the director of the local DPI office, suffered what appears to be a drug overdose while bravely attempting to recapture an escaped...”

  
“Bravely attempting!” Megamind cried. “Ran into Psycho Delic when he was trying to scuttle under a rock, more likely! Fools! How do they come up with these stories? Did they grab a bunch of half-baked rumors, throw them at the wall, and see what...”

  
“Sii-i-ir,” Minion complained, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

  
“...substantial damage to his brain tissue, leaving him in a catatonic state, from what doctors say is exposure to a hallucinogenic compound fifty times more powerful than LSD,” said the Channel 11 anchorman. “Any word on the other victims?”

  
“Bill, the seven others who got dosed apparently received a less concentrated amount. They all appear to be conscious, and coherent. Doctors are keeping them at the hospital for observation.”

  
A photo of Psycho Delic appeared. “The super-powered felon believed responsible for at least some of the carnage is on the loose. James Yaeger is highly unstable and both the police and the FBI are...”

  
Megamind switched to another channel, where they were re-hasing events. He picked at the caramel corn and put a couple of pieces in his mouth, but really he didn’t feel very hungry anymore. He cast a sideways look at Minion, who had grown quiet, his fins barely stirring.

  
“Well, that just about takes all the fun out of it,” he muttered, swallowing the barely tasted snack. Innocent people had gotten hurt, and the streets of Metrocity had gotten more dangerous. He bit his lip, pushing the swivel chair back and forth.

  
“It’s nothing to be upset about, Minion,” he said curtly.

  
“Well...I didn’t actually say any...”

  
“Corbin had it coming. And he’s off our backs.”

  
“Right. That’s the important thing, Sir.”

  
“Yes. Exactly my point, Minion.” He reached over and snagged the cheesy chips. _I can’t be expected to control every possible contingency. Not my fault._

  
As long as he kept telling himself that, he’d believe it.

  
Eventually, the anchors turned to the political reactions on the DPI scandal. Watching the righteous indignation of the politicians proved entertaining, but not one, not one reporter even brought up the matter about how the truth about DPI had gotten leaked in the first place.

  
“You’d think at least one of these so-called journalists would ask,” he grumbled. “A little credit would be nice.”

  
Minion shrugged and sprinkled some fish flakes into the containment unit. “At least we know. Besides, we’re the bad guys, right?”

  
Megamind snorted. “True enough. I wouldn’t want to get labelled as some kind of vigilante hero. Who needs that?” Yawning, he stretched out his back. “Let’s go see what Uncle Harry’s been up to. That sofa’s better than the floor.”


	34. Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn that was fun!'" -Groucho Marx

“A loan shark?” Megamind cried. “Uncle Harry, if you needed money, why didn’t you ask me?”

Harry picked at his chow mein. “Didn’t know where you were,” he muttered. He looked up. “I had to act fast. It was a good tip, too, a great tip!” he said, voice rising desperately. “I coulda paid him back the same day. But that horse...” His voice trailed away and his gaze dropped to the styrofoam container again. “Must’ve been having a bad day. It was sick or something.”

Megamind shared an exasperated look with Minion. “Which loan shark?” Minion asked.

The chair squeaked as Harry shifted his weight. “Franzetti.”

Megamind’s eyebrows shot up. “Julian ‘Drive By’ Franzetti? Uncle Harry, he’s the reason Uncle Pat had to get a new knee! How much did you borrow?”

Harry waved his hand in a dismissive way. “Only a hundred.”

Megamind heaved out a breath. “Oh, is that all?” he said, glancing at Minion again, with a look that said they could easily take care of this little matter. “What were the terms?”

Harry poked at the food for a while before answering. “Twenty-five per cent of the winnings.”

“And that would have been...?” Megamind prompted, making a circling motion with his hand.

Harry sighed. “Five thousand.”

“What?” Minion cried. “Aw, Uncle Harry, that’s... that means you owe...”

“One thousand two hundred and fifty dollars,” Megamind said grimly.

Harry frowned. “You boys don’t need to worry about it. I get paid Friday. I’ll take care of it.”

 _With WHAT?_ Megamind wanted to shout. _What about your rent? You have a nice cardboard box to move into next? What happened to that five hundred I gave you before I left? I can’t believe you risked your kneecaps for a measly hundred bucks at a cut-throat terms on a nag that probably couldn’t stagger out of the gate if you set its tail on fire._ But of course he couldn’t say those things to Uncle Harry, who was chewing mournfully on takeout food.

On the TV, True Grit played. John Wayne snapped, “If I ever meet one of you Texas waddies who ain’t drunk water from a hoofprint, I think I’ll shake their hand or buy ‘em a Daniel Webster cigar.”

With a sigh Megamind fell back onto the couch and rubbed his eyes. Well, he would pay it off, whether Uncle Harry liked it or not. Later he and Minion would knock over a couple of gas stations, find out where ‘Drive By’ Franzetti did business, and pay off that sorry excuse of a gangster.

There were footsteps out in the hallway. He couldn’t have said exactly why the back of his neck tingled, but he lifted his head.

There was a knock at the door. Heavy and official sounding.

He sat up, muscles tensing. “This is the police. Open up.”

Swiftly and silently, head buzzing, he darted across the room to grab the de-gun in its holster. Glancing around the apartment, his heart sank at the sight of the pest control devices, the pirated cable box, the three laptops and miniature video cam, the stolen boombox he’d collected one evening, the duffel bag with his clothes. He’d left his mark all over the place.

He looked at Uncle Harry, who sat frozen in his chair, watery eyes wide. Uncle Harry belonged to what Megamind thought of as, if he were feeling polite, the ‘older generation’ who couldn’t operate a simple video phone to save their lives. Uncle Harry may have been an embezzler and a whiz with a numbers, but he was also scrupulously honest in his own way, at least when confronted with the facts. There was no way Uncle Harry would be able to pretend that all this electronic equipment was his.

There was only one possible way to get him out of this predicament. With a grimace, Megamind mouthed “sorry” and dehydrated him.

Minion, who had been attempting to stuff more clothes into the duffel bag, whirled in surprise. Megamind, who had half expected the cops to break down the door at the sound of the de-gun firing was already dashing for the bathroom fire escape, but fortunately the television covered the sound of it.

Another louder, more impatient knock sounded as he yanked at the window. It went up about three inches, and got stuck.

“Open up, police!”

Minion put his arms around him and wrenched the window open with a screeching of wood. Megamind leaped onto the fire escape. It would take Minion several seconds to squeeze his big shoulders through, so he would shoot the frame around it to make the opening bigger. He felt a flicker of guilt about wrecking Harry’s chance of getting his security deposit back.

“Freeze!”

Megamind froze.

Four cops were in the alley below. Four gun barrels stared up at him. They got the drop on him. He’d always wondered about that phrase. Well, he felt well and truly dropped, as his heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach.

“Hands up! Drop your weapon!”

Megamind, feeling like targets had sprung up all over him, let the de-gun dangle from one finger before letting it fall.

The apartment door crashed open. “Freeze! Hands up!”

“Already did,” Megamind grumbled.

The incoming cops ordered them out of the cramped bathroom and they shuffled out. There was hardly any more room in the rest of the apartment with all the cops milling around. Megamind recognized the fat one in plain clothes, the inspector who had given him into Corbin’s custody.

“You gave us a pretty good run, son,” said Inspector Buford. “It’s over now.”

“Whatever you say,” Megamind said. A diabolical smirk would have been appropriate at this point, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

They frisked and cuffed him, after which there was a discussion about what to do with Minion. Two officers kept their guns trained on the containment unit. “We can’t cuff him, can we?” one of them said. “He’d just break ‘em.”

“Maybe we can pop the fish bowl off. How’d you guys get it off before? When Metro Man pulled him out of the sewer?” asked a cop wearing latex gloves, pulling aside the sofa cushions. He found Corbin’s gun and lifted it to show the inspector.

Two others were sifting through Harry’s boxes while others poked in the cupboards.

“I think those feds did it.”

“Anybody see how?”

The officers exchanged looks. One of the cops holding a gun on Minion looked much too jumpy for Megamind’s comfort. Every time Minion moved a fin, the cop adjusted his grip and rocked from side to side as if he were getting ready to dodge.

Minion, his hands against the ceiling, turned slightly in his bowl. “It’s easy to unlock,” he said. “There’s a groove here,” he nodded down at the robotic neckline. “With a lever.”

“I’m not reachin’ in there,” snapped the trigger-happy cop.

Megamind cleared his throat. “If you free my hands, I will remove him from the robot suit.”

The cop shot him a glare. “Yeah, right! You’ll probably give him a secret code or somethin’. Set off a self-destruct button or somethin’.”

Some people watched too many sci-fi movies. Megamind had never understood the nihilistic tendencies of sci-fi villains to stick self-destruct buttons on everything. “I’m not going to blow him up, or myself for that matter. That would be counterproductive. It’s a simple matter to disconnect the containment unit. Will you let me, Inspector?”

Inspector Buford nodded and one cuff was unlocked so his hands were free. One cop kept a gun pressed into Megamind’s back as he walked over to Minion. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it a little further away,” Megamind said. “It’s a little hard to concentrate when I have to worry about getting blown away if you trip.”

“Back off,” Buford told the officer. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Megamind reached up, the handcuffs dangling from his wrist, very cautiously so as not to cause alarm. Reaching into the groove, he held down the lever while depressing the release button. The containment unit came loose with a dull thunk. Immediately the tip of a gun pressed into his back again. “It’s just the locking mechanism disconnecting,” he said, hands on the containment unit to keep it from falling.

“Give the fish to Officer Hume,” said Inspector Buford.

Megamind lifted Minion down. {“Have any more hidden suprises?”} he murmured in Ahrini.

Minion’s spines drooped. {“Sorry, didn’t have time.”}

The gun jabbed Megamind. “No talking!” the cop snapped.

The cop tucked Minion into the crook of his arm, rather carelessly, Megamind thought.

The robotic arms drifted down and the suit became still. The cops finally relaxed enough to put their guns away. Clearly they hadn’t gotten word that Minion could control the robot body from a short distance. Megamind toyed with the idea of telling Minion to use the robot suit to punch the trigger-happy cop, but that would really be asking for it.

“What’s this?” Buford asked, prodding the blue cube with his toe.

“The renter,” Megamind said. “I dehydrated him when I took over the apartment.”

Buford regarded him in silence for a moment. “Rehydrate him,” he said, and picked up a plastic cup.

Megamind dripped water onto the cube and Harry reappeared.

“Are you Harry Chambers?” asked the inspector. Harry, confused, nodded.

“And were you the victim of a home invasion?” Buford asked dryly.

Harry met Megamind’s gaze, who gave him a little tilt of the head, waggled his eyebrows slightly, and attempted to coach Harry into answering in the affirmative, which was difficult to do with so many officers of the law glaring at them.

Harry looked at the floor and shook his head.

Megamind sniffed. “He must be confused. He...”

“Knock it off,” said Buford. “We know he’s one of your uncles.”

They cuffed Harry too, read everyone their rights, and took them away. Minion’s robot suit was brought out later on a trolley.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Three hours later, the warden came to see his runaway. As he followed an officer down the echoing halls of the holding cells he thought about what he was going to say. _Are you all right? What were you thinking? Did you really think you’d keep out of the hands of the law? I’m sorry I put you in solitary. I’ll do better, Blue, I can help you, I’ll make sure you get to school, find employment, have a future that doesn’t involve being stuck in a cell the rest of your life. Just ignore everything that happened the last fifteen years and leave it to me._

Parker sighed. He didn’t think he would believe him either, if he were Blue.

They stopped at the cell. Blue was, not surprisingly, wearing a groove in the floor with his pacing, but he stopped agitating around when he saw the warden. Fidgeting over to one of the walls he stood with his back to it and wrapped his arms tight around his middle.

Parker looked him over as the officer got the cell open. Blue wore a gray, short-sleeved uniform from juvenile hall. Parker wondered if he was cold. The boy looked taller than he remembered, seemed harder, more...

“So where’s Minion?” The words came out harshly, ending Parker’s attempt at reflection.

“Sitting on the inspector’s desk.” Minion was currently wedged between a short stack of files and a bowling trophy, looking as miserable and defiant as only he could.

Blue sighed and closed his eyes. He jerked his chin at the departing officer. “One of them said they were going to take him to the pound.”

“He’s fine. I just saw him upstairs. He’ll be coming home with me.”

Blue dropped onto the cot. “So when do _I_ get to go back to your cage?”

Parker had lectured himself, repeatedly, to be calm, but he felt his hackles rising. Every time he thought he could take whatever the kid had to dish out, Blue found another button to push. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “There’s going to be a hearing. To decide what to do with you.”

 

The boy’s hand tightened on his upper arm. “You mean I might not get to come home? I thought...” He swallowed and licked his lips. “Where... where would they send me?” Parker wanted to hug him but he put his hands in his pockets instead. “There’s talk of juvenile hall. Here in Metro City.”

The boy’s worried grimace relaxed slightly. “Oh,” he said, exhaling. “I guess that’s not so bad.” He lifted his hand to rub his head and that’s when Parker saw the white lines that slashed across most of his left forearm.

Two quick steps forward and he grabbed Blue’s arm, seizing him by elbow and wrist. “What happened here?” he cried.

Blue drew back, startled. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing! Did he cut you?”

The boy blinked. “Who?”

“Agent Corbin, damn it, who do you think? Is that why that man is practically in a coma? He hurt you, so you set Psycho Delic on him?”

The boy drew a sharp breath and his eyes widened. “I wouldn’t go near that sicko if you paid me!” he cried, jerking his arm away. “I didn’t mean for him to get loose. I only...” He stopped and clamped his mouth shut, looking away.

Parker searched his face. “But the DPI leak. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Blue set his jaw. Stubbornly he glared at some distant point on the far wall, hiding his scarred arm under the other.

Now Parker wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. He walked slowly across the small space to the cell entrance. The prisoner in the cell across the hall lay on his cot, foot waving back and forth. Down the hall, other prisoners coughed, talked. Guards’ footsteps echoed, doors clanged open and shut. Blue’s shock and revulsion had been genuine. Parker felt some relief at that. He didn’t know why it was so important, but it was. At least the boy hadn’t caused a man to literally lose his mind just for...for rev-ahnge. Not on purpose, anyway. Whatever Blue had done, Parker was still convinced that he’d done it to protect himself.

 _What did he do to you?_   he wanted to ask. Those looked like knife cuts to him. He’d heard some nasty rumors about Corbin, and the switchblade he carried.

Parker looked at Blue, chin held high and glaring at the wall, and despaired of ever finding out the full story. His heart ached. Blue didn’t trust him.

Parker went over and sat next to him. He even dared to put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. He expected Blue to shrug him off, but amazingly, he just shot him an angry glance and looked away again. “You’re not alone, son,” Parker said quietly. “It’s not just you and Minion against the world. You must believe that. I want to help. Things haven’t been easy, but they’re going to be different now. I’m going to adopt the both of you. You and Minion. You’re part of my family. Don’t think that you have to put on this...”

“Did the Scotts say it was all right?” Blue gave him a cool look.

The words died in Parker’s mouth. He took his hand away.

One eyebrow lifted slightly on the high blue forehead. “Better check with your meal ticket first, to make sure they approve.”

Parker’s heartbeat filled his ears. _He knows. All this time, I wanted to protect him. He didn’t know about the Scotts funding his upkeep because I didn’t think he **needed** to know. How would I possibly put it? That he’d been kept in prison because the Scotts wanted him there, and the city wanted him there because everyone believed he was a danger, and I thought it was the safest place for him to be?_ Which, now that he really thought about it, didn’t make him sound much better than the Scotts.

The silence stretched and threatened to solidify into an unbreachable wall. Parker said, “I don’t see a penny of that money. Not one red cent. I mail a monthly expense report to the law office and they take care of it. There’s a fund.” Parker searched Blue’s face, willing him to understand.

Or at least there _had_ been a fund. The Scotts had formally let him know that Blue was a problem for the taxpayers now, and the fund was suspended. For the moment, it was a little too complicated to go into all that.

He’d been assured that it was an act of charity on the part of the Scotts, but now he wasn’t so sure. He had a nagging suspicion that Lord Scott had his own ideas about how things ought to go, and that he might decide to change the rules. Everything came with a price. Parker wondered if the boy was the one who would pay it. Parker wished he’d asked more questions, but at the time that Lord Scott’s attorney paid him a visit to arrange matters all those years ago, it seemed a miracle, a financial burden taken off his shoulders. The problem was that no matter how cynical Parker was, he probably hadn’t been cynical enough.

The boy’s face remained shut, locking him out. Parker tried again. “There were people trying to take you away,” he said. “I didn’t dare bring you home. I needed help. The expense of providing for you was...”

His voice trailed away. He was saying it all wrong. If anything, the boy’s face became even more closed off, as if another door had slammed shut. The blue lips stretched into a thin smile. “I understand perfectly, warden. It was too expensive. Too much trouble. You needn’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be fine.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Parker asked. It was difficult to keep his voice calm. “I’m going to adopt you. I can take care of both of you better if...”

Blue got to his feet. “If you’re expecting me to fall into your arms weeping with gratitude, then I’m afraid that you’ll be waiting a very long time. I can take care of myself. And Minion, too. I don’t need you and I never will.”

Parker got up. “I don’t blame you for being angry, Blue. Can’t we sit down and talk about this?”

“It’s Megamind, warden. Blue is a name for faithful old hound dogs.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, I can’t stand to see such a sad face. All right,” he said, flinging his hands up in the air. “Go ahead and fill out whatever little scraps of paper you want. It makes no difference to me.”

Parker turned away, biting his lip. He struggled to find something else to say, then gave up. Maybe tomorrow, after the boy had some time to cool off, he’d be willing to talk. He hailed the guard. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven, for the hearing.”

“Tolliver will be there, too, I suppose?” Blue said with a sniff. “How is the old battle ax?”

“I don’t know. She’s the Scotts’ lawyer, and they’ve decided not to support us anymore. I’ve had to find another, name of Neville Strunk.”

Blue’s smirk faded slightly. “Is this Strunk any good?”

Parker studied the boy’s slightly anxious face. “Guess we’ll find out.”

As the cell was opened, Blue stepped toward him. “Wait.” He crossed his arms. “Um. Will you bring Minion?” He gave Parker a look that was a strange mixture of pleading and arrogance, unhappy at having to ask a favor after his big independence speech.

 _Wow, guess you still need me a little after all, huh?_ Parker bit back the sarcasm, but he savored the feeling, just for a second, and felt a little ashamed of himself. It would be mean and petty to rub it in. “I’ll try. I don’t know if they’ll allow him in the courthouse.”

“He’s not an animal, you know,” Blue said, eyes flashing.

“Of course I know. The trouble is not everybody does.”

\- - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, the boy’s evil smile was once again firmly in place, and he made his displeasure at Parker’s failure to bring Minion known. “Didn’t try all that hard, did you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Parker said. “The clerk said I’d have to get a special permit and there wasn’t time for the paperwork to go through. Only service animals are allowed in the building.”

Damn, he should have said that Minion was one of those companion animals that eased psychological trauma. It wouldn’t have been that far from the truth.

Parker had gotten the silent treatment from Minion about it, too. Minion had wanted to come along in the car, on the chance that the courthouse would let him in, but Parker was worried they’d refuse, and then what? Stick him in the trunk?

He’d gotten an aquarium for Minion at home, and it was damned expensive too, getting one big enough. The containment unit was barely bigger than Minion himself, and without the robot suit he was so restricted in his movements that Parker wanted him to have a tank big enough in which he’d be able to turn around without bumping his nose. But he didn’t want him to be alone at the house all day, so this morning he brought the little ichthyoid back to the old tank in the prison office.

Lawyer Strunk had phoned to say he’d be a little late, but not to worry, he’d get there. Strunk had been late for his first meeting with Parker, too, which was a worrying trend.

The judge, it turned out, had some very strong opinions about the current situation. “And you decided this was a suitable environment for John?” the judge asked. “To be raised in a prison surrounded by hardened criminals?”

For a moment Parker couldn’t figure out who the judge was talking about, then he remembered that ‘John’ was Blue’s legal name. “Well, you see, your honor, there were a number of extenuating circumstances which...”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your claims,” said the judge, placing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on the end of his hooked nose. “You believed the boy was a target of various groups, including one of the largest, most respectable pharmaceutical companies in our country, which you seemed to think wanted to kidnap him. As well as your claim that our own government sent federal agents to steal him away from you.” He peered at the warden over the glasses. “You’ll have to forgive my skepticism.”

“I have witnesses, your honor. The FBI tried to seize custody of him when he was little. It’s all documented.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the boy look at him. _Surprised, maybe? Reconsidering his opinion of me?_ That would be nice, though Parker wasn’t going to hold his breath. “If you’ll see Miranda Tolliver’s report on the night that...”

“Mister Parker, as of this moment there are four files in my chambers relating to this case. Four, each of them this thick!” He held his thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. “I don’t see how I can be expected to wade through all of this,” the judge grumbled. “What about his education?”

“Well, that hasn’t gone as well as it should, but, your honor, he practically taught himself to read,” said the warden, with a sinking, burning sense of shame that he hadn’t tried a little harder to get some decent schooling for the boy. “I think if the right sort of...”

“And opportunities for socialization? His actions show he has no regard for other people’s personal space or possessions. The sheer number of crimes that John has committed does not surprise me in the slightest. If this is your idea of raising a solid citizen, I shudder to think what would have happened it you’d tried to produce a criminal!”

Though the judge was asking plenty of questions, he seemed determined to prevent Parker from fully answering any of them. “And what about this robot? Controlled by some kind of mutant piranha.”

“That’s Minion, your honor. He’s not a piranha, he’s...” Helplessly, he looked at Blue.

“He’s an Ah-Kho, your judginess. A sentient fish from the planet Ah-Ri,” said Blue, clasping his cuffed hands on the table.

Parker stared at him. First he ever heard of it.

The judge peered at Blue over his spectacles, then looked down at his papers. “An Ah-Kho from Ah-Ri. Of course,” he said dryly. “Young man, you will address me as ‘your honor,’ not ‘your judginess.’ One troubling aspect of this bizarre case is the fallacy that this boy and the fish came from a galaxy far, far away.”

“Not a different galaxy,” said Blue. “A different solar system.”

The judge removed his glasses and leaned over the bench. “Tabloid nonsense. Even the boy himself seems to believe it. Why has there never been an investigation into his true origins?”

Parker shook his head. “I don’t...but...I saw it for myself. The spacepod, it landed right...”

“And where is this spacepod?” Parker sighed. “The FBI confiscated it.” Or it might even have been DPI. Parker couldn’t remember if DPI had been in existence fifteen years ago. There had been a large number of black-suited men roaming the prison. He thought he had a report of it somewhere in his filing cabinet.

Damn that Strunk, where was he?

“Again, we return to the conspiracy theory. Inasmuch as I have been able to untangle this mess, this is what I am left to deal with: an orphan child, origin unknown, who has been hidden from the world for his entire life, presumably to protect the public, and apparently these fears have not been unfounded.” The judge fixed a scowl on Blue.

The boy gave him a bright smile.

The judge’s face turned red. “Once free, he proceeds to run rampant for several months, creating fear and havoc in the general populace. Countless muggings at gunpoint, grand theft auto, carjackings, kidnappings, assaults on officers of the law, well, the list goes on and on. Can’t imagine how any other outcome to this sorry state of affairs could have happened,” the judge grumbled, turning the scowl on Parker. “The child John Doe will be housed in the Metro City Juvenile Correctional Facility, until such time as he can be brought to trial.”

Two bailiffs came over. One of them took Blue’s arm. Blue’s smug smile wavered. He glanced at Parker, then looked away, but the warden caught the hint of anxiety in his eye.

Parker asked the bailiff, “Is he going right away? Can I wait with him?”

The man nodded. “There’s five more juvenile cases. The van will probably leave about two-thirty. Just ask at the desk, they’ll show you where to go. But he has to come with us first, sir.”

“One moment, Mister Parker,”said the judge. “There’s another matter.”

The judge shuffled a few papers around while Blue was escorted from the room. He glanced at the door as it closed behind Blue and the bailiffs, then put his glasses on the end of his nose again. “I thought it would be best to talk about this between the two of us, spare the boy, all that.” He cleared his throat. “Aside from all other considerations, it baffles me why you let John keep such a vicious animal for a pet. I’m given to understand that it has bitten a number of people over the years?”

Parker had to admit that this was true. “Yes, your honor, but always in self defense. He’s very protective.”

The judge sighed. “An attack fish. Now I’ve heard everything. What’s more, you allowed the boy to build it a robot suit? So that it could cause even more damage? A testament to his genius, but extremely irresponsible. This is one matter, at least, which I can rectify immediately. You will turn the creature over to animal control for humane disposal.”

With that, he brought down the gavel.


	35. The Price of Life

 

  
It was as if a giant hand squeezed Parker’s chest. The rustle of clothing as people shifted in their seats, murmuring to each other, someone coughing, all sounded abnormally loud in his ears.

  
“Ek...excuse me?” he said. “Disposal?”

  
The judge didn’t even look up. “Humane disposal, yes. What’s next on the...”

  
Parker came around the table. “Now wait just a minute. You can’t do that!” He saw one of the bailiffs from out of the corner of his eye, on an interception course. Parker stopped in the middle of the floor, clenching his fists. “Your honor, may I approach the bench?”

  
“I will thank you to lower you voice,” the judge said sharply. “Mister Parker, the court is ready to move on to the next case.”

  
“This can’t wait, your honor. This is his life we’re talking about here!” He glanced at the bailiff again, who stood with arms akimbo as if ready to leap.

  
“I think I already brought down the gavel, Mister Parker.”

  
“But...” A hundred protests whirled through his head. “But he can talk,” he finally blurted.

  
“I believe there are a number of claims to that effect, but I really don’t...”

  
“He can talk!” Parker shouted. “He’s an intelligent being who...”

  
“...see what difference it makes,” said the judge, raising his voice and talking over him. “If the boy can’t control his pet...”

  
“Minion’s not a pet, he’s a person!”

  
“I’ve heard just about enough,” the judge said. “If a parrot starts viciously attacking people, I’m not going to bother asking how big its vocabulary is.”

  
“This is as good as murder, goddammit!”

  
The judge jabbed a finger at Parker. “I will not tolerate that language in my court. One more word and I will charge you with contempt.”

  
Parker clamped his jaw shut. He forced his hands to his sides and tried to look contrite, though he felt like he was getting strangled with his own tie.

  
The judge settled back in his creaking leather chair with an air of satisfaction. “Now, are you going to relinquish the creature or should I have animal control come to your house?”

  
Parker wanted to smack that superior look off his face. He gripped one hand with the other. “Can you at least let them see each other one more time? To say good-bye?”

  
The judge sighed and adjusted his glasses.

  
Parker talked fast, before the judge tried to tell him to shut up again. “Blue’s had Minion his whole life, ever since he was a baby. He used to carry him around with him all the time. The robot suit started out as a way for Minion to move himself around. I ought to have restricted the size of it, but I have to confess I was pretty impressed by what Blue created. Out of scrap, mostly. I take full responsibility for whatever damages have been done, and I realize it seems a little strange that Blue is so attached to a fish, but taking Minion away like this will traumatize him. More than you can imagine. Please. I can bring him to visit Blue. Just this once.”

  
The judge pursed his lips and shoved a few papers around while Parker sweated. He could hardly believe he was standing here begging for Minion’s life. And with such trite arguments! Trying to reduce poor Minion’s existence into a framework that this moron would understand.

  
The judge drummed his fingers. “I suppose that could be arranged. You have one week. They don’t normally allow animals in juvenile hall, you’ll have to talk to their warden. Do I have your word that you will hand the fish over seven days from now?”

  
“You have my word, your honor.”

  
Parker felt light-headed as he hurried out. _Well, that’s it. I wasn’t under oath, but lying to a judge is almost as bad as perjury. Wonder what other criminal acts I’ll commit today?_  Because there was no way in hell he was turning Minion over.

  
He was half way out of the courthouse before he remembered he was supposed to sit with Blue while he waited to be transferred. Sinking down on the granite steps, he clasped his shaking hands together.

  
Stay calm. The judge said he had one week. It wasn’t like animal control workers were going to storm in with a SWAT team to take Minion away by force. They didn’t work like that. They didn’t know where Minion was right now anyway.

  
Just in case...

  
He went back inside, found a pay phone, and called his assistant Andrew, telling him not to give Minion to anyone for any reason. He talked to the security chief, too. After Schmidt got done swearing, he assured him that no one from animal control would be allowed past the front gate. And he had a suggestion. “How about I hide him at my place, John? Nobody here’ll say squat. Tell the court somebody stole him.”

  
“Seriously, Walt? You really think anyone’d believe that?”

  
“Worth a shot.”

  
Parker chewed his lip. The way things were going, hiding him didn’t sound like such a bad idea, at least for a while. “I may take you up on that offer. Last resort, though. We can’t hide him forever.”

  
His next call was to the absent Strunk. “Oh, hello, Mister Parker. I’ll be at the courthouse half an hour early so we can...”

  
“Early?” Parker said, bewildered. “What are you talking about? It ended ten minutes ago.”

  
There was a rustling of paper, and muffled voices as if a hand had covered the mouthpiece.

  
Parker leaned a fist against the phone. “The hearing was at eleven. ELEVEN O’CLOCK, Mister Strunk,” he said. “In the morning.”

  
There were more muffled exclamations on the other end then Strunk was back, clearing his throat. “Oh. Eleven. You sure it was...oh, rats. It was eleven wasn’t it? I thought it was at one.”

  
“Tell you what, I’ll call back later, when you get it figured out,” Parker said through gritted teeth. He slammed down the phone.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
He considered not mentioning it to Blue, but he decided the boy deserved to know what was going on, and he didn’t want any more secrets between them. It didn’t make it any easier, telling him what the judge had done.

  
They were sitting almost knee to knee in the waiting area, three other teenage boys in handcuffs perched on a bench on the other side of the room and two guards by the door.

  
He’d never seen the boy turn so pale. Blue’s eyes widened and his lips parted as he drew a harsh breath. For a second Parker thought he might actually faint, then the boy’s mouth clicked shut and his face went rigid. He lifted his cuffed hands and clenched them into fists before pounding them onto his thigh, making the chain clink, an accompaniment to his frustration.

  
“I know it looks bad,” Parker said. “But I’ve bought us some time. Time enough to...”

  
“He can’t do that,” Blue whispered. His chest heaved and his nostrils flared. Even though Parker was expecting it, the speed with which Blue launched himself at the door surprised him.

  
Parker grabbed him and almost got knocked over. Small as he was, the boy had a wiry strength even greater than Parker remembered, and he had no trouble understanding how Blue had escaped custody again and again.

  
“Stop! Don’t!” he shouted towards the general vicinity of the guards, knowing at least one would be coming at them. “It’s all right! He’s upset!”

  
He dug his fingers into Blue’s straining shoulders and pushed him back, looking him in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything happen to him! Stop it! You hear me?”

  
The boy’s eyes were full of helpless fury, but his gaze locked on Parker. He stopped fighting against Parker’s grip, though he could still feel the tension in the boy’s taut frame.

  
“I am not going to let anything happen to him,” Parker said. “I won’t allow it.” He squeezed his shoulders, then placed one hand on the back of the boy’s head, at the base of his skull. It was an old gesture he hadn’t done in years. He remembered it had a calming affect, during times when the boy experienced pain too great for words to express. He applied firm pressure with his fingers against the head and neck, and rubbed the smooth skin with his thumb. The boy stood rigid, but Parker felt him relax almost imperceptibly, and his skinny body no longer pressed forward.

  
As he looked down into the boy’s eyes an ache started up somewhere below his ribcage. How long had it been since they’d connected like this?

  
He held Blue’s gaze. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said firmly. Then, because he felt like he couldn’t say it enough, he said, “I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

  
Blue’s handcuffed fists were still held up between them, knuckles almost white. Slowly the knuckles darkened to their usual blue. The boy nodded, once.

   
Parker lowered his hand to Blue’s shoulder again and glanced around. He could sense that one of the guards was very close. Sure enough the man was right next to them.

  
“Everything all right then?” the man asked. “He has to sit down.” He gave the impression that if Blue didn’t sit down on his own, then he, the guard, would make him sit.

  
“Yeah. It’s fine.” Parker said, a little weak in the knees with relief that he hadn’t had to see them wrestle Blue to the floor. He pushed a little at Blue’s arm and they both sat down.

  
Blue wet his lips. “Dad, will you go to him and make sure he’s all right, please?” The words came out in a monotone and a pink blush spread over his cheeksbones.

  
It had been a long time since Blue called him that. Parker was not comfortable with this painful attempt at being ingratiating. He didn’t want Blue to think he had to suck up to him in order to save Minion’s life. “Well, I’ll be a damn sight more useful than you trying to bust out of here. What’d you think you were going to do, smash a hole in the wall?”

  
Blue gave him a sharp look. “Maybe,” he said. “You never know.” A very brief evil smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  
That was more like it. Parker squeezed his shoulder again and left.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - -

  
Parker collected Minion and drove straight over to Miranda Tolliver’s law office. If she turned out to be a brick wall, he could always go back to Strunk and browbeat him into shaping up.

Telling Minion about the situation was even worse than telling Blue. It just about broke Parker’s heart, seeing Minion go all quiet and wide-eyed.

  
If ever there was a time to have as many people as possible hear Minion speak, then now was that time. But he wasn’t one to perform on command, to do little tricks and crap like that. Without Blue around, he tended to be a lot quieter, especially without the robot suit to give him confidence, as if by keeping quiet he could escape people’s notice.

  
Parker was in luck; she happened to be talking with her receptionist, otherwise she would have been in the fortress of her office, from where she could easily refuse to see him, and maybe even have security escort him out if he made a scene. “They want to put Minion to sleep” probably wasn’t the most polite way to begin the conversation, especially with poor Minion right there, but it sure got her attention right away.

  
As he explained, her mouth actually fell open. If he thought that she’d been shocked when he announced his plan to adopt the two alien boys, now she looked flustered. Her hand flew to her chest and her gaze moved from him to Minion and back again. Then her mouth clicked shut, and she was a pillar of calm once more.

  
She nodded at him. “This once, Mister Parker, I will do you a favor. No charge. Nicole, get the department for animal control on the phone, will you? Come,” she commanded Parker.

  
She ushered them into her office. Parker sank into the comfortable chair gratefully, with Minion on his lap. He felt drained, and it was a balm to his frazzled soul to hand over the reins to someone else for a while.

  
With a slight buzzing in his ears, he accepted an offer of coffee from some clerk or other, and watched Tolliver work. Mrs. Tolliver had clawed her way to the top of a male-dominated profession thirty years earlier, with perfectly manicured nails and iron-clad determination to not let any bastard get in her way. Disposing of a writ declaring that a fish was a dangerous animal was mere child’s play.

  
He sipped coffee and kept one hand wrapped around the bowl. Minion peeped out from behind his hand and they both watched Tolliver summon law books and mysterious documents to her desk by the bustling secretary, all while she skewered various people over the phone.

  
Finally she seemed to be finishing her legal rampage. “Well, then, if you are so unfamiliar with such basic procedure, perhaps you ought to consider another line of work. I suggest garbage collecting,” she said, and hung up.

  
Lacing her fingers together she leaned her elbows on the desk. “Judge Webb overstepped his bounds. He’s a lazy idiot who has been on the bench too long,” she said matter-of-factly. “No judge can simply decide an animal is a danger to society, not without at least one witness, a written complaint from city hall, and a separate hearing. No one has issued such a complaint. And for that we are extremely lucky.”

  
She gave Minion a hard look and he shrank back. “Let’s hope that none of your victims decides to formally issue a complaint. Or sue for damages.”

  
Parker cleared his throat. “What else can we do to insure Minion’s safety?”

  
She sat very still. “That’s something for you and Mister Strunk to decide.

  
“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

  
Leaning back in her leather chair she steepled her fingers together. “Are you aware of how much I charge per hour, Mister Parker?”

  
“Two hundred seventy-five for...uh...let’s see, I think that’s for a first consultation, for an hour, isn’t it? And then...”

  
“You can’t afford me,” she said, cutting him off.

  
“I have savings,” he said. “Melanie can get more financial aid. With a second mortgage, it’ll come together.” Hell, he’d put on spaghetti dinner fundraisers if he had to.

  
Mrs. Tolliver regarded him in silence. She knew all about his financial situation, his battles with the insurance company to pay for his wife’s care, and how he struggled to keep afloat, and how he’d been relieved that his younger son had decided to postpone college for a year.

  
The polished brass clock on the bookshelf ticked away.

  
“You still can’t afford me,” she said.

  
Well, it had been worth a shot. He’d better get back to Strunk, and see what they could do. He began to push himself up from the chair.

  
“I suppose you thought that because I’m a woman I’d get all misty-eyed and give my hard-earned services away free of charge, is that it?” Tolliver’s voice ought to have shrivelled his hair.

  
Carefully he sank back into the chair. Any sudden movements could ruin the balance. “I’m sorry,” he said meekly. “But you really are the best lawyer I know.” He set Minion on his knees. “We’ve been so very lucky to have you working with us. I have been ...less than impressed with Mister Strunk so far. Do you know of any others who could do what you do?”

  
Parker risked a glance downward. Mostly all he could see was the top of Minion’s head, but it seemed to him that Minion was giving her a wide-eyed look. He hoped so. Anyone who could resist that look really did have a heart of stone.

  
Tolliver pursed her lips. She tapped her pen on the desk and her gaze shifted between him and Minion. Then she sighed.

  
“I’ll take the case. We will discuss a reasonable discount based on a sliding scale,” she said, wincing as if the words gave her pain. “And a payment plan.”

  
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Tolliver!” Minion cried. He spun in his bowl.

  
She actually blushed. Parker got up and leaned over the desk to shake her hand. She gave him a brief smile, but then her gaze hardened.

  
“If anyone finds out about that discount, you’re out on your ass,” she said, pointing a warning finger at them. “And I hope I don’t need to impress on you the importance of keeping our arrangement a secret from Lord Scott. And Minion’s well-being is the _only_ matter I will discuss with you.”

  
Parker raised his hands. “Mum’s the word.” It wasn’t like the Scotts came around for Sunday dinner or anything.

  
“Now, we need to get some biologists and ichthyologists to determine Minion’s status as, since he is the only one of his kind, an endangered species," she said. "We’ll contact the university and the DNR...”


	36. Seize the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last chapter. I have to say I'm a little sad to see it come to an end. Thank you for reading.
> 
> "The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage." -Carrie Jones, "Need"

 

When Parker came into the juvenile hall visiting room, Blue bolted out of the corner he was slouching in. Halfway across the room he remembered his dignity and slowed down, but his stride was still just under a run when he reached them, hands lifted for Minion.

  
“Yeah, take him,” Parker said gruffly, adjusting the heavy bag of books. His arms were getting tired.

  
Blue hugged Minion to his chest. He ducked his head but not before Parker saw his eyes shining.

  
Minion bumped against the top of the containment unit. “Hey, Sir, it’s me!”

  
Blue gave a choked laugh. “Yes, Minion, I can see that.” Turning on his heel he walked swiftly back to the corner, wiping a quick hand over his eyes.

  
“You’re welcome,” Parker muttered, but he followed at a little distance to give them some space. Part of Blue’s rudeness, he knew, was embarrasment over the tears. Part of it.

  
Other families were there, visiting their wayward sons, nephews, brothers. A few girls held babies in their arms, or comforted fussing toddlers. Some of these young inmates were already fathers. Some people cast curious and not entirely friendly glances at Blue and Minion, but they looked away from Parker’s frown.

  
He turned his back on the room as he joined Blue and Minion at their table. Minion was deep into his explanation of everything that had been going on since their separation.

  
“I was on that fat detective’s desk the longest time, Sir, and everybody kept looking at me, I told him I had to be with you, and he said ‘no animals in the cells’ so I just turned my tail on him, Sir.” Minion whirled around to demonstrate, making bubbles float up.

  
“That showed him,” Megamind said, his mouth stretching into a smile.

  
“Ha! Yeah, and then Mister Parker took me to get an aquarium, Sir, it’s a great big one. You oughta see it. Um.” Minion gave Blue an anxious look.

  
Parker wondered what was up. Worried that the master wouldn’t approve?

  
Blue nodded encouragingly at Minion. “I’ll bet it is.”

  
Minion perked up again. “Even bigger than the office one. The next day Mr. Johnson was giving me a cookie when Mr. Parker ran in and scooped me up, and I knew something was all wrong, Sir, I could just tell, and he was bringing me out to the car, and I was like, ‘what’s going on?’ And he was all, ‘there’s something really serious going on here’, and I was...”

  
I should be filming this, Parker thought. Hardly three words out of Minion all week, now he was chattering away. Eh, probably there would be people who’d claim the video was faked. He should try to get Minion to talk like this in front of some of those scientists that Tolliver was lining up.

  
“...and I already knew that, but then I kind of lost my appetite after he told me about that judge...that... you know...”

  
“That bombastic, fat-headed, know-nothing, pompous ass who dared try to have you eliminated? Yes, him.” Blue nodded sagely.

  
Minion wriggled with delight. “Yeah! Pompous fat-ass! But we went over to Mrs. Tolliver’s, and I had this look on my face the whole time, Sir, look.”

  
Minion made his eyes big and sorrowful. Blue snickered. Parker smiled. It was good to see Minion goofing around.

  
“Talked her into my defense!”

  
Blue chuckled. “Minion, you sly dog.”

  
Minion looked at the warden, his smile fading into a little worried frown. “Um, well, Mr. Parker did it, really.”

  
Megamind gave Parker a reluctant nod. “Thank you,” he said quietly, trying to sound like he meant it. And he did, but...

  
He curled his arm possessively around the containment unit. _If anyone is going to keep Minion from harm it ought to be me._ At least Corbin had been straightforward in his evilness. Megamind would not stand helplessly by while petty officials decided Minion’s fate with cold-hearted paperwork.

  
“She got the whole thing cleared up,” said Parker. “She’s going to get Minion defined as an endangered species. Now, it may not be ideal,” he said a little sharply at Blue’s frown. “I know he’s not an animal, and she knows it. This will be a temporary measure so no one can have him disposed of out of hand. Having said that, it would be a big help if you didn’t bite anyone else,” he added to Minion with a stern look.

  
He reached into the paper bag and pulled out the brownies on the paper plate, within a plastic zip-lock bag. Blue sat up a little straighter. “Melanie made these for you. She’s sorry she couldn’t come, but she couldn’t miss work. She’ll come next time.”

  
Blue got the bag open and devoured one before Parker finished talking.

  
“They feeding you?” Parker asked.

  
Blue snorted and reached inside for another. “And Sammy?” he asked. “I suppose he’s just dying to visit me as well.”

  
Parker cleared his throat. “Well, he wants to be called Sam, now.” What his teenage son had to say in regard to Parker’s decision to adopt the two alien boys did not bear repeating. He pulled the books out of the paper bag. “I brought you some things to read.”

  
He set the books on the table, Advanced Physics, Our Cosmic Neighborhood, and A Brief History of Time. Nothing that had anything to do with electronics and would hopefully keep the boy’s mind away from thinking about picking locks or hacking into computer systems, hopefully.

  
Blue’s face was neutral as he scanned a few pages, but Parker saw the brief twitch of a lip before he closed the book. “The evenings will just fly by, with reading material like this.” He opened A Brief History of Time at random. Parker watched as his eyes darted back and forth, and his eyebrows rose slightly. He began to flip to the front when he seemed to remember he had company. “I guess this one looks all right,” he said airily, setting it aside.

  
As the end of the hour neared they got quieter and quieter. Minion kept glancing at the clock on the wall, which was covered by a cage. All around the room the mood grew heavier as everyone got ready to say their goodbyes. There were outbursts of strained laughter, and a few tears.

  
Blue lay his forehead on the containment unit. Minion got quiet and leaned against him. Parker looked down at his folded hands and waited.

  
“Time, everyone,” a guard announced. “All visitors to the north exit.” People shuffled to their feet, exchanged hugs.

Parker got up, reluctant to take Minion away. Blue still lay with his head down. He whispered something to Minion. Parker couldn’t tell what he said but Minion’s fins quivered.

  
Blue stood, picking up Minion, and shuffled around the table. Parker seized him and crushed him in a proper hug, sideways since the bowl was sort of in the way. He was tired of all this awkwardness, he was going to be a father whether Blue liked it or not, and that included embarrassing hugs.

  
Parker kept it short, only held him close for a couple of seconds. The boy stood rigid in his embrace until it was over. Blue coughed, and his cheeks were pink. “So, where are you staying?”

  
Minion piped up. “He brings me to the office in the day, then home at night. Aquarium’s on the first floor, next to the kitchen.”

  
Parker glanced from one to other. They both had faces devoid of guile, innocence, or any other emotion whatsoever. Years of parental suspicion kicked in, the feeling that something was going on under those blank surfaces. Especially with these two.

  
“Time, people! It’s time!” a guard bellowed.

  
He sighed. “Time to go,” he murmured, taking Minion from Blue’s reluctant hands. At the door he half turned so he and Minion could have one last look. Blue looked very small. He raised his hand and dropped it quickly, and Parker left him, in that lonely place among strangers.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
At supper time there were only a few places left to sit. Megamind managed to put some space between himself and the blowhards.

  
The hostile looks from the other boys were increasing. For the first few days at juvie everyone had kept their distance, and he’d been almost too depressed to take much notice, other than to be glad that they left him alone. He was too strange, and they didn’t know how he fit in or if he was poisonous or what, but they were losing their fear of him.

  
Many had seen him with Minion. Since most inmates had families, there was a general amnesty for wussy behavior on visiting day. Megamind suspected that he was a special case. He didn’t give a rat’s ass for their opinions, but he could tell that they now thought him a weakling, a real weirdo who got all mushy over a fish. There would be no compensation for him.

  
Soon, one of these power-hungry gorillas would get it into his head to show a little dominance by knocking the weird alien kid for a loop. Or maybe the whole bunch of them would attack.

  
His ribs gave a little twinge as if to remind him what happened the last time he’d gotten a beating. He wasn’t looking forward to enduring another, but he’d survived Corbin and his goons, he’d survive these bastards too. He wasn’t cuffed and helpless this time. They’d find he wasn’t such easy prey.

  
Still, he’d avoid it if he could. The penalty for fighting was ten days in solitary confinement, and he knew that the guards wouldn’t cut him any slack. He had places to go.

  
His circuit overloader was almost complete. It was in two separate pieces at the moment, in different hiding places, and only needed to be combined. Then he could get out of here. He didn’t plan on spending one more night in juvie.

  
The jokers at the other end whispered and snickered. Blue watched them out of his peripheral vision as he shoveled the food in, barely tasting it. He didn’t feel hungry, but he needed to keep up his strength.

  
Brown gravy with an unpleasant reddish tinge covered lumpy mashed potatoes and what might have been a turkey sandwich. Oversalted and one-dimensional. It was poor fare after the tasty treats he’d enjoyed on the outside. Had prison food always tasted this bad, or was it just the juvenile facility’s special blend?

  
One of the jokers began calling, “Meg. Hey, Meg. Me-e-e-eg,” in an annoying sing-songy voice.

  
And so it began. First the belittling of the opponent by likening him to a girl, thereby reducing his status, because no self-respecting male wanted to be identified with those lowly girl-creatures who existed within the macho sphere as objects to be conquered and ridiculed. It might be the precursor to a physical attack. But perhaps he could give them pause.

  
He finished eating and picked up the tray. As he strolled by the snickering group he paused, slowly turning his head and locking eyes with the head jerk.

  
Eye contact in itself was a threat to this neanderthal, whose smirk turned into a scowl. The hulking boy straightened up, making his shoulders strain against the gray uniform. There were a few snickers of anticipation, and one of them cracked his knuckles.

  
Megamind ignored them, focusing all his attention on Knucklehead. “If anyone calls me Meg one more time, I will put something in your food that will give you diarrhea for the rest of your life.”

  
Snorts of disbelief met his announcement. “Nothin’ can do that.”

  
“On the contrary. A rare worm from the Amazon rainforest can do exactly that. Of course, it wouldn’t be a normal life span. It would be considerably shortened. And there’s no antidote. The worm is microscopic. It attaches itself to your lower intestine and stays there, multiplying. Imagine, dying of the runs. Dehydration, loss of enzymes, malnutrition. What a way to go.”

  
The table had grown silent. Knucklehead narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have no worm,” he said, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

  
Megamind smiled.

  
The boy turned red. “Gonna get all of us, Einstein?”

  
Megamind cocked his head. “No, jerkface, just you.”

  
The sneer wavered on the chump’s face.

  
As he went to dump his tray, he heard someone call out, “Hey, Me-e-eg. Me-e-” Followed by the sound of a fist thumping somebody’s arm and a yelp of pain.

  
At least he wouldn’t get called that anymore.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
Minion drifted back and forth in the tank. The house was dark and quiet. Everyone had gone to bed, Melanie only an hour ago.  
He was pretty tired. He didn’t sleep well in this strange house with its strange shadows and funny noises. Though it was a very nice aquarium, and the warden had provided a big rock formation behind which Minion could hide when he wanted a little privacy.

  
Minion used it when Sam walked by. He didn’t like the way Sam looked at him, when the teenager bothered to acknowledge Minion’s presence at all. Melanie at least tried to make him feel welcome. He liked it when she studied in the kitchen, textbooks and notes spread out. It reminded him a little of Sir. She would put him in his containment unit and let him roll around the floor or put him on the table so he could see what she was working on. It was a lot of complicated medical stuff that he didn’t understand but he appreciated the effort.

  
Minion scooped up a few pebbles from the bottom and spat them out one by one. He probably shouldn’t have talked so much, there at the end. He’d almost tipped the warden off. Minion didn’t know how or when, but he was sure that Sir would come for him.

  
“Be strong,” Sir had whispered, and given him the hand signal for ‘soon.’ So Minion was trying to be strong, and to be ready, though his heart ached with missing him.

  
It wasn’t absolutely essential for Sir to know the exact location of the aquarium. He was certain that Sir remembered the layout of the house and would be able to find where they’d put the aquarium fairly quickly anyway, but Minion had wanted to do his bit to make the transition as smooth as possible. It was best if Sir didn’t spend too much time fumbling around in the dark.

  
He dozed.

  
He started awake with a jerk, heart fluttering. He thought he’d heard a soft wooden sound. The front door closing? A footstep on a floorboard?

  
He swam to the end of the aquarium. Someone was moving through the living room. It could have been one of the family coming downstairs for a drink of water, but why didn’t they turn on the light? Too much bother? Maybe they were walking so stealthily so they wouldn’t bump into furniture.

  
Minion drew in water over his gills and let himself open to the bond. To his delight there was a familiar tingly feeling in his forehead.

  
“Sir!” he whispered. “Here, over here, quick.”

  
Megamind stepped around the corner, eyes glinting in the light from the window and a huge grin on his face. “Miss me?”

  
Minion bit his lip so he wouldn’t squeal, but he did a backflip of joy.

  
“You ready to blow this pop stand, you fantastic fish? Where’s the bowl?”

  
“Cupboard, under here, Sir!” Minion squeaked, pointing down with his nose.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
The next morning Parker stood looking at the aquarium for a long time. There was a blue rubber duck in it. He was too tired to get very upset. He made some coffee before he called the police.

  
It was tough to get a hold of them, as most everyone at the station was dealing with the fact that someone had blown a hole in the wall to the evidence room, stolen an unknown number of pieces of evidence, and then filled the place with flame retardant foam. The cops were still digging out.

  
“I think I can tell you what’s missing,” said Parker with a sigh. “Megamind’s dehydration gun and Minion’s robot suit, right?”

  
“How do you know that?”

  
“Lucky guess.”

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - -  
Epilogue  
\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
The news that at least a third of DPI agents across the country were involved in criminal acts ranging from theft to human trafficking was a serious blow to the current presidential administration, who had won on the platform of rooting out corruption. Measures were swift.

  
The national director of the Department of Paranormal Investigations in Washington resigned in disgrace, though it later came out that he had been manipulated by a psychic and therefore wasn’t entirely responsible for the fact that he hadn’t noticed his agency was overrun by crooked employees. The agency was dissolved, and its duties reabsorbed by the FBI.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
Corbin went to an asylum, too far gone to be charged with any crime since he was catatonic.

  
Corbin’s partner Agent Bates escaped the carnage at the Federal Building but was arrested trying to board a plane for Canada.

  
Ulrich Hofstetter, dubbed “Wolfman Jack” by a newpaper wag, was extradited back to his native Austria to face trial for murder.

  
Freezer Burn was picked up by Metro Man for robbing a jewelry store and sentenced to ten years in the new supervillain prison in Grenville, Florida.

  
\- - - - - - - - -

  
Sparkle and Hot Flash teamed up with Lady Doppler for a while, forming the gang called the Femme Fatales, but Sparkle wasn’t really made for a life of crime. It gave her an ulcer. After she discovered she was pregnant with Corbin’s child she spiraled into a depression.

  
She was captured by the Kansas City police. The feds offered her a deal if she would testify against the disgraced agents of the Department of Paranormal Investigations. She was only too happy to comply.

  
She refused to name the father of her child, though. If Corbin ever got his mind back, she didn’t want him to have any claim over her little boy.

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

  
Metro City drug lord Bruce Otto was found face down in his swimming pool, along with two of his entourage.  
And so Psycho Delic oozed his way into Metro City’s underworld.

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

  
Wayne Scott again appealed to the family lawyer, and she got Curly and Reg released without much difficulty, as Corbin’s credibility was shot to hell.

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

  
Though the warden was highly irritated that Harry Chambers had hidden Megamind and Minion, he was still grateful that he’d given them shelter when they needed it. Though Harry received a two-month sentence for violating parole and harboring fugitives, Parker’s testimony got it reduced to a six-month stint in the county jail.

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

  
Roxanne tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for her parents to finish reading the brochures. “So can I go?”

  
Dr. Ritchi glanced up. “Awfully far away.”

  
Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because it’s at Penn State, Dad. Two whole weeks! It’s one of the best journalism camps around. You’re always saying I should be thinking about my future.”

  
He exchanged looks with his wife. “This’ll be a good experience for her,” she said.

  
He looked at the brochures again, thinking. The police seemed incapable of hanging on to that alien for any length of time. He would breathe easier if she were out of the city for a while. Who knew, maybe she really would become a journalist. “All right, you can go.”

  
“Yesssss!” Roxanne pumped her fist. She gave them both a hug and ran to call her best friend.

  
\- - - - - - - - -

  
Julian ‘Drive By’ Franzetti received a surprise visit from the aliens everyone was talking about. Megamind insisted on paying off Harry Chambers’s debt. Franzetti guessed that he’d be dealing with some hot cash so he tacked on an extra handling charge along with the late fee.

  
Megamind gave him a long, slow look, but Franzetti had been in the game a long time, and was used to such staring contests.

  
Megamind’s trench coat hung open and Franzetti could see a gun on the freak’s hip. He let his hand slip under the desk to rest on the shotgun.

  
The freak’s eyes followed the movement, then around to the corner where one of Franzetti’s men sat. The man moved in his seat to show his own sidearm.

  
Megamind gave him a steely look. “How about a receipt?”

  
Franzetti snorted and shook his head. “Don’t do receipts.”

  
“I will need some assurance that this is the end of it. That my uncle won’t find one of your thugs calling on him to collect a ‘bookkeeping’ charge, or any other type of extra ‘fee.’” The way Megamind said ‘fee’ almost made it a dirty word.

  
How’d this freak know so much about his business? He glared at Megamind, then at Minion, standing half in shadow by the door, a little too close to Franzetti’s other man, who was forced back against the wall by Minion’s bulk.

  
He supposed he could let Chambers go. He had other sheep he could fleece, sheep that didn’t have overprotective nephews with laser guns. “Fine. Pay now, and Chambers is free and clear. You got my word.”

  
Megamind lifted one eyebrow on his high blue forehead as if he was calculating the value of his word, and Franzetti began to bristle at the insult, but then the freak nodded and held his hand out. “Then we shake on it.”

  
Franzetti hesitated. Normally he would have done that anyway, but this was an alien. Megamind’s eyes and sinister smile seemed to make fun of him. He stood up and stuck out his hand. He wasn’t scared of no freak. At least Megamind was wearing gloves. Franzetti shook the strong, narrow hand quickly and let go, half expecting some trick, and almost felt mad that there wasn’t one.

  
Megamind gestured at Minion and the henchfish stepped forward, taking a bundle of money out of a zippered leather bag. “You’re a real business man, Mr. Franzetti. Very pragmatic,” said Megamind.

  
Franzetti grunted as he counted it out.

  
Megamind wasn’t done. “You might want to remember this. I may not look it now, but one day I will rule this city, and when that day comes, rest assured I will remember who is my friend, and who is not.”

  
Some resonance of evil in Megamind’s voice worked its way into Franzetti’s crusty soul and he glanced up uneasily, but the door was already closing behind Minion’s back.

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

  
The street people eventually returned to populate the old fish market neighborhood. The potholes that Sparkle had left all over the place didn’t really make the area all that much worse, though rumor had it the city was thinking about razing the street.

  
For now, at least, Reg and Curly had a familiar place to hang their hats. Curly installed new foil pyramids on the ceiling.  
One evening as they returned from their daily outing, they found two cardboard boxes sitting in the middle of the floor with note taped to one. ‘With eternal gratitude, Code Blue and Minion’ was scrawled across it.

  
“Hey, it’s from Code Blue,” Curly cried. Excitedly he began ripping into one of the boxes.

  
Reg saved the note before it got accidentally shredded. The envelope felt kind of thick. He peeked in and almost dropped it. Along with a folded letter, it looked like there was at least a couple hundred dollars in there. Nervously he jammed the money in his pocket. If Curly saw that loot now he’d holler. It wasn’t like Reg didn’t trust the neighbors but... that was a lot of money. Reg would dole it out for the two of them gradual like so Curly didn’t get too excited. He’d make it last.

  
He took a look at the second, much bigger box, and saw that it was full of gourmet camping food, all in neatly sealed packages with instructions for cooking, stuff that could keep for months. One looked like beef stew. Reg’s mouth watered.

  
Curly’s big grin faded, and his mouth turned into an ‘O’ of horror. He flung his box aside with a cry.

  
Reg looked up from his examination of a package of hermetically sealed apple pie. “What’s the matter?”

 

  
“Soap,” Curly said, outraged. “It’s full of soap. Somebody’s impersonatin’ Code Blue, man, and havin’ a go at me!”  
Reg picked up one of the paper-wrapped bars. It looked like a plain old bar of Ivory soap, no additives or perfumes added, but just try telling Curly that.

  
He looked at the note and read aloud. “Dear Curly, I have news of the utmost urgency to give you. The U.S. Government has perfected its mind-reading ray. It is dangerously potent. Aluminum, tin, and, indeed, all types of foil are powerless against it.”

  
Curly clenched his pyramid hat close to his head. “Oh no, oh no, oh no...”

  
Reg made a soothing gesture with his hand. “Hold on, there’s more. ‘I have discovered the antidote. Here are a dozen slabs of a secret substance known only to myself, made of solid isotopic particles. Take these to the nearest mission, homeless shelter, or rest room. Remove all clothing, get completely wet, and scrub a slab vigorously over the skin.”

  
Reg hesitated, and glanced at Curly. His buddy was listening intently. Reg cleared his throat and continued. “Rinse off the resulting foam, which is a completely harmless side effect. The isotopic matter will be absorbed into your skin on a molecular level, thus producing an impenetrable layer of protection against the mind-reading rays. Isotopes fade over time, so you will need to conduct this procedure twice a month, or as often as seems convenient. Also good for clothes, for extra protection. Share with Reg.”

  
Curly exhaled. “Aw man, that’s a relief. For a minute there I thought I thought he was gonna tell me to wash.”

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
Tanaka Industries, having suffered two break-ins within a half year period, was extremely keen on not letting it happen again. They added two super-powered security guards to their team, a lizard man and a woman with laser vision.

  
Megamind blocked all communications, disabled the security system, disabled the _second_ system they’d sneakily hidden within their innermost room and which had tripped him up the last time, and dehydrated all the guards. He left them in a little pile with a cheery note of encouragement.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - -

  
“And then I told them it was from the Amazon and there wasn’t any antidote,” Megamind said, chuckling. “That put the head jerk in his place quick enough.”

  
Minion laughed. “What a bunch of dweebs!”

  
With a happy sigh, Megamind leaned against the bright blue Dodge Charger he’d recently liberated and looked out over the park, drinking in the sight of the lights that glittered and twinkled on the skyscrapers of Metrocity.

  
He was free, he had his loyal companion at his side, and they’d successfully, finally, and with perfect aplomb pulled off the Tanaka heist. The Tanaka executives would have to learn that simply because some people possessed super powers did not necessarily make them effective guards.

  
He scratched his jaw. He wasn’t entirely happy with his first attempt at growing a devilishly handsome beard. It was looking kind of patchy. Hopefully it would grow out more evenly.

  
It was high time he conquered another adolescent milestone. The consumption of alcohol. Whoever heard of a tee-totaling supervillain? Even if he wasn’t quite there yet. He was a supervillain-in-training, that was it. A self-taught program. He twisted the cap off the beer bottle and wrinkled his nose at the odor. Maybe people just dared each other to drink it. He took a cautious swig but couldn’t keep his face from scrunching up as the bitter liquid burned his tongue.

  
Minion watched the rise and fall of the bottle. “How is it?”

  
“Not bad,” he said hoarsely, and glared at the label. “I thought this type was supposed to be sweet. I’ll finish it later.” With a slight shudder he handed it to Minion, who set it on the ground.

  
“Should we head back to the lair?”  
Megamind nodded. Their new lair was in an ideal location on the northwest side, with a nice view overlooking the lake. “Yes. And there I will formulate my plans,” he said, stepping away from the car. He held up one hand and clenched it into a fist. “For the ultimate takeover of this...”

  
A figure in white flashed through the air on the far side of the park, making the trees bend in his wake, branches creaking and leaves rustling.

  
Megamind flung himself over the hood. Minion dashed around the bumper. Cautiously they peered around the car.

  
Heart thumping, Megamind’s eyes darted back and forth, scanning the skyline, but Metro Man was gone. “Must have been heading for some emergency,” he muttered. Sirens wailed mournfully in the distance.

  
“Think he saw us?”

  
Megamind bared his teeth in a grimace. “Hard to say. Let’s go.”

  
There was a brief wrestling match over the steering wheel.

  
“It was one sip, Minion. One sip!”

  
“Even caffeine sends you over. You get loopy if you get too much chocolate!”

  
“That only happened once,” Megamind snapped. Dodging Minion’s arm he feinted right, then, when the henchfish moved to block him, he scrambled around Minion’s side and planted himself behind the wheel. “Ha! Get in.

”  
“Sir, until we know how the beer will affect...”

  
“In.” He revved the engine.

  
With a sigh, Minion tromped around to the passenger side and got in. Megamind pulled onto the parkway, leaving tread marks on the asphalt.

  
“So, taking over the city,” Minion said. “Pretty big order, isn’t it, Sir?”

  
“It will not happen tomorrow, nor next year, but this city will be mine.” He cast an evil scowl at the sky. “Once a certain obstacle has been removed.”

  
As a general rule, Megamind was loathe to take life, even the life of an enemy, preferring to mock, impede, and humiliate instead. An objective observer might have questioned him on his desire to eliminate Metro Man, commenting on the scars left by abusers and bullying, and the wisdom of looking within and healing the self rather than lashing out at the perceived source of pain, and citing the power of forgiveness and letting bygones be bygones, but Megamind would have advised an objective observer to shove it, so it’s just as well there weren’t any in the area.

  
He bit his lip and drummed his fingers on the wheel. Visions of robot armies, battle suits, artificially intelligent robots that would obey his every whim, laser guns of all makes and sizes, filled his head until he thought he would burst. This miserable metropolis would feel his wrath, and its golden boy defender would bear the brunt of it.

  
Minion braced himself as they tore around a corner. Getting rid of Metro Man seemed about as likely as getting rid of the sun by spitting at it, but if this was what Sir wanted... “What do you wanna do next?”

“The next item on my agenda is the acquisition of air power.”

  
“Oh. Really? That’ll be kinda tough, Sir. How will we find a flight instructor?”

  
“For what?”

  
“To teach you to fly a plane.”

  
“Pfft! Anybody can fly a _plane._ I’m going to make jetpacks.”

  
“Ooo! Does that mean I get one too?”

  
Megamind punched his shoulder. “Of course, you fantastic fish, you!”

  
They drove on into the glittering night.


End file.
